


Through An Open Window

by LMA



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 20:23:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 34
Words: 75,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1792030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMA/pseuds/LMA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Recounts the story of Jeffrey Sinclair's early years as Valen and his reunion with his fiancee Catherine Sakai; Delenn learns what happened to her friend by using the Great Machine.  Originally published in 1996.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

BABYLON 5:  
THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW  
BY LAURA MARLENE APPELBAUM

This story is set in two time periods -- in late 2261, (between the final fourth season “Babylon 5” episode “Deconstruction of Falling Stars” and before the fifth season opening episode “No Compromises”)  
and in 1260 on the planet Minbar.

\-- PRELUDE --

John Sheridan, the newly elected President of the equally new Interstellar Alliance, was in a meeting with the new Commanding Officer of Babylon 5, and Ambassador Delenn of Minbar was alone in her – their – quarters, trying to find room for all of John’s. She had anticipated that their marriage would result in any number of new challenges, but she hadn’t counted on the problem at hand. What had been an elegant, sparsely decorated space in Minbari style was now crowded with an eclectic collection of items. 

Since she had no intention of asking John to dispose of his things -- she knew Humans had a tendency to place excessive value on material objects – Delenn was sorting through her own items, deciding what to give away or discard. She was beginning to conclude that it was a hopeless task. Perhaps they would have to maintain separate quarters until the new Interstellar Alliance headquarters was built on Minbar. She paused before her crystal wind chimes; the ones shaped like teardrops. They were made from stones retrieved from the river that flowed through the sacred city of Tuzanor, The City of Sorrows, the city where Valen had dwelt. No, those she would keep, maybe just move them to the bedroom. As she reached for them, she heard a familiar, booming voice call from behind her; a voice she had not heard in a very long time.

“I’d give you a hand with those, old friend, but I’m afraid there’s a limit to how much a holographic projection can do.”  
“Draal!” she said, turning with a broad smile on her face.  
“Yes, it is I, the inimitable Draal, at your service!” he proclaimed, bringing his fingers together to form a triangle and bending in an exaggerated bow. “Had I realized my absence would prompt such a … peculiar taste in redecorating,” he continued, glancing about the room, “I would certainly have visited you sooner.”  
“Draal,” she protested lightly, “simply because we do not share the same aesthetic with the Humans is no reason to insult them.” Delenn realized it had been years since she’d had such a frivolous conversation with a friend, and she was enjoying it. “As such things go, John’s proclivities are better than some … I still recall the hideous … object over the bed in Michael Garibaldi’s quarters when I visited him there some four years ago. But surely you have not taken your attentions from The Great Machine to engage in a discussion of interior design with me! To what do I owe this special appearance?”  
“To what else but your recent nuptials, my dear? Congratulations.”  
“Thank you,” she said, lowering her head almost bashfully, “but how…” She knew the answer, of course; as guardian of the Great Machine on Epsilon 3, Draal had the power to travel and observe almost anything, anywhere in the galaxy, at any time, simply by thinking about it.  
“I check in on you now and again, just to see how you are doing. With the First Ones gone and the Shadow War over, I have considerably more time to dedicate to personal matters, you know. And speaking of personal matters … you’ve married a Human! According to their traditions I now owe you a wedding present. What gift that is within my power to give may I offer you?” 

Delenn was downcast for a moment, thinking of the things she wanted most, things no one could possibly grant her; a restoration of all the years John had lost when he had perished on Z’ha’dum, and a healing for their respective home worlds in the wake of the separate civil wars that had ravaged each planet. She considered the work that lay ahead -- the rebuilding of physical structures, and more enormously, of the souls and spirits of both peoples. In Valen’s Name, she only hoped she was equal to the tasks ahead of her. Delenn thought for a moment about Valen, Minbar’s greatest historical figure, and her face brightened slightly. Perhaps there was a gift Draal might be able to bestow upon her. 

“Is it possible for me to use The Great Machine, as you once let Ivanova do?”  
“Many things are possible … but what is it you wish to see, Delenn? I cannot allow you to look ahead to your own future, you know. I cannot let you see anything that might change what is to come.”  
“It is not the future I would ask to see, Draal, but the past. I have been thinking much of my dear friend Jeffrey Sinclair…”  
“Ah yes, Valen, your first husband.” Draal interrupted. Delenn was shocked – even for Draal this was an outrageous thing to say. Yes, she had consecrated herself to Sinclair; married him without his realizing it at the time. But Valen?  
“I’ve never thought of him that way ... but Draal, it is not Valen as such that I have wondered about – I have of course studied all of the Grey Council’s texts about him. It is Sinclair I brood about – I worry that his life was nothing but self-sacrifice, that perhaps he never knew happiness. It pains me to think that he may never have been reunited with the woman he loved, Catherine Sakai. About his personal life, the records are conspicuously silent. Why is this, Draal? Was it the ancients who were troubled by Valen’s worldly side, or was it Valen himself who tried to hide his other face from history? If you do wish to give me a gift, then I would ask to use The Great Machine to find out what happened to my friend. It would mean a great deal to me, Draal.” She looked at him with innocent anticipation. Draal was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, the bombast was gone from his voice.  
“Such a thing might be done, Delenn, but I would have to monitor your thoughts closely to assure that you do not see anything prophetic, anything which might change the Destiny that was set into motion when Sinclair traveled back in time with Babylon 4. I might also warn you, Delenn, that the things you may learn might not be those you hope for – are you positive you will be able to accept the truth, however harsh it may be? Please think about it carefully, old friend. My advice would be to choose another gift. But if it is truly what you wish, then you may visit me on Epsilon 3 tomorrow. Goodbye for now, Delenn.” He stretched his arm toward her, palm facing out, his other hand against his chest. Delenn returned the gesture.  
“I will see you tomorrow, Draal,” Delenn said with certainty, as his image faded from view.


	2. At the Window

\-- 1 --  
\-- AT THE WINDOW--

For the first time in a great while, Delenn was at the controls of her personal flyer, the Zhalen. Arriving on Epsilon 3, she followed the very route she, Draal and Londo had traveled with Varn almost five years before when Draal had assumed control of The Great Machine. She had been there only one other time since. Entering the control room, she was startled to see both a projection of Draal and her friend himself, tied into the mechanisms of the machine. 

“Delenn,” Draal’s image greeted her, as his actual body stood motionless, “I had a feeling you would come, despite my warning.“  
“If you have been watching me, Draal, you know that I have passed through darkness, storm and fire. Little frightens me now.”  
“Alas, dear Delenn,” he said sadly, “the Universe has thrust many difficult burdens upon you. And on Minbar, and the Humans as well. Even when I’d left home for the sea of stars I’d had no idea our world, our people, would fall so low before we could rise up again. But now I see that it was just as Valen prophesied. And you handled your part in prophecy quite brilliantly, Delenn; Valen would be proud.”  
“So I pray,” she replied softly.  
“You are certain you wish to do this?”  
“I am.”  
“Very well – follow me, or rather, my projection. What with the Humans here to visit and avail themselves of The Machine so often during the Shadow War, I had a second access point constructed right here.” He led her to a nest of wires and devices identical to the one in which his own body was nestled. “I will have to join you, Delenn – it is not that I do not trust you to avoid looking where you should not, but that such places are not always as obvious as one might think, and the results could be catastrophic. As your friend Jeffrey Sinclair might quote: ‘She has heard a whisper say/A curse is on her if she stay/To look down to Camelot’ – ‘The Lady of Shalott’ by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.”   
“Yes, I know,” Delenn whispered, for a moment lost in thought. “That was his favorite poet.” She looked around and then, with stilted movements, fit herself into the port provided for her body. “Now what do I do?”  
“You must keep your mind at all times on the questions you would wish for answers to. The Machine will take you where you want to go. Are you ready?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then close your eyes and concentrate, my dear, and may Valen light your way.”


	3. A First Glimpse

\-- 2 --  
\-- A FIRST GLIMPSE --

The man known as Entil’Zha Valen, The Minbari Not Born of Minbari, awoke reluctantly, almost an hour before dawn. In the last month, he had begun to fret over the absence of the nightmares that had greeted him each and every night for the past four years. He worried about their departure with nearly the same intensity with which he had once feared their inevitable arrival. It seemed that as the nightmares fell away, they took along more and more of the man whom he had been.

For years in his dreams he found himself reliving the last, brief kiss he’d given Catherine Sakai before she and he and Marcus Cole had entered their separate fighters and set course for the time rift in Sector 14. Again and again, as he slept, he impotently watched her ship spin out of control, pass the Shadow vessel, then strike the black wall of the rift until slowly, in helpless increments, she disappeared from view. He saw the lightning flashes slice the Shadow ship in half as the rift forever closed, and awoke with a cry as he felt the shrapnel tear through the cockpit of his ship and embed itself in his cheek. But lately, since his most recent, victorious engagement against the Shadows, his nights had been peaceful and refreshing. Like the scar that had once marred his face, the familiar dream had vanished. 

Now, he dreamt of new plans or ingenious battle strategies, or sometimes of things as pleasing as the sound of Minbari birdsong or the flavor of his last meal. The better he slept, the more concerned he became; was he forgetting her? Was he losing Catherine for good? Was he forgetting his past, which now lay nine centuries ahead? Was he still, in any sense, Jeffrey David Sinclair, or was he wholly Valen now? And who was this Valen becoming? His waking thoughts were now as disturbed as his sleeping mind had once been.

He glanced at the Minbari woman who slept beside him and tried to recall her name and caste as he stood up from the hard, tilted bed he had at last grown accustomed to. He sighed, disgusted with himself, grabbed some clothes from a chest beside the bed, threw them on and hurried out the door, traveling a familiar route into the rocky foothills beyond the city of Tuzanor.

Valen slashed his way through the underbrush as the darkness began to lift. Skillfully, he scrambled across a glittering rock pile until he came to his destination. A torrent of clear, cold, glacial melt-water fell some ninety feet from a ledge above and crashed into a waist-deep pool, where the water then spun about slowly before it coursed across more stones and ran into the valley below. He tossed his garments onto a boulder, folded his robe of state with its Isil’zha pin a bit more carefully and laid it on top. Wincing at the water’s frigid temperature, he waded over to the waterfall.

For a long time Valen stood there, directly below the cataract, tensing his muscles against the pounding blows of the water until the pain fully awakened him. The force was so tremendous it nearly knocked him down, but it was nowhere near the scourging that he felt he deserved. Eventually, he stepped forward toward the rock cliff beyond. In three cautious paces he reached a smooth-walled alcove hidden behind the falls, where he sat down on a large stone, shivering slightly. The wall of water now filled his entire field of vision, effectively concealing him from the world beyond.

Valen had stumbled upon this place eight months ago, right after he’d left Babylon 4 for Minbar in the hopes of uniting Minbari society in his name. From the first, he thought the secluded spot would be a fine location for private meditation. It was here that he was best able to recall what it had been like to be Commander Jeffrey Sinclair of Earth Force, an officer and a pilot who’d dedicated his life to serving and protecting the citizens of the Earth Alliance. Or to be Ambassador Sinclair, who felt he had finally found his purpose, his calling, after a lifetime of searching, in leading a secret army against the coming Darkness. What was the difference between that man and who he was today? Beyond his physical appearance, the difference was that Jeff had Catherine to share his life with, to keep him grounded. And Valen? Valen had no one.

After a few visits to the area, Valen realized the thunderous applause of the water would mask any sound he might make. He began to journey there more often, to recite aloud to himself in English or in Latin the Lord’s Prayer, or the Ave Maria, or a piece of one of the dozens of poems he’d memorized long ago. And sometimes, just his old name.

“I am Jeffrey Sinclair, a Human,” he shouted, barely able to hear his own voice above the watery din. “I am not really Minbari! I am not a prophet; I am just a man from the future! The Vorlons are not angels! I was born on Mars on May 3, 2218! My name is Jeffrey David Sinclair!” He shivered again, then noticed that his skin was turning blue in more places than a Minbari’s normally should be. It was incredible to him how much physically tougher the Minbari were than Humans – in his previous incarnation, he would have been suffering from severe hypothermia by now. A slight breeze blew that autumn morning, hinting at the long, frozen winter yet to come.

He had always thought of Catherine in the fall, even when he was in space far away from the turning leaves and crisp air he forever associated with their first meeting at the Academy back on Earth, before the War. Today he felt he had no right to remember her, to think of her delicate face, her long black hair and her gentle voice. For the first three and a half years after losing her, he had experienced no worldly temptations at all. When he’d first arrived, the Minbari were losing the War to the Shadows – badly. This was due in part to their inferior weaponry and primitive spacecraft, but also to the constant infighting between the different clans within the Warrior Caste. His appearance with Babylon 4 and his ability to organize the Minbari had made all the difference, although it had taken nearly the entire time he’d been among them to unify them into his own army of Rangers. So Valen had lacked any opportunity to brood -- he had too much to do, and his constant occupations kept away the loneliness and the desires for Catherine, his old life and his Human body, all of which now consumed him. If only he could visit Earth, just see another Human being, Valen thought wistfully. But that was impossible. On Earth, it was the Thirteenth Century, the heart of the Middle Ages, and he could scarcely show up there in a space ship with an enormous grey horn growing from his head! 

Somehow, as word of Valen and the promise he had brought spread, as more and more Minbari of all three castes came to respect him, even, already and against his most fervent protests, to fear and revere him, he felt the distance between himself and anyone in this place and time grow greater and greater. The Religious Caste had quickly labeled him a True Seeker, just as Delenn once had, and so the members of that Caste treated him with the attendant awe due a Holy Man. The Warrior Caste leaders had deferred command to him, which was so unprecedented that away from battle, they by and large avoided him. The Worker Caste Minbari were little better than serfs and so any real relationship between one of them and Valen was out of the question. And even Zathras, the strange alien from Epsilon 3 who had come back through time with him, was of little help when it came to fulfilling Valen’s need for someone not to serve him but to know him. To Zathras he was nothing less than The One, (it was Zathras who had taught the Anla'shok the chant “We live for The One we die for The One”) and Zathras was content to serve that One as a living tool. He was a companion but he wasn't a friend. And so Valen had become more and more desperate for affection, for some kind of emotional connection with anyone, even if for just a moment. There were definite disadvantages to appearing from out of nowhere with companions who appeared to be winged celestial beings and technology from a thousand years in the future. It really killed your social life for one, he reflected bitterly.

He’d been alone and isolated before – after the Earth-Minbari War, literally everyone but his brother and Catherine Sakai had shunned him. Instead of reaping the rewards due to him as Earth Force’s best fighter pilot, or as one of only two hundred survivors from The Battle of The Line, he’d been repaid with an inquiry into whether or not he’d collaborated with the enemy. Although cleared of all charges, that wound had never fully healed. But at least he had been able to salvage his career and eventually gather together a small circle of friends. Friends he had grown as accustomed to turning to as he was with wrestling with the military and political hierarchy, with striking workers or irate diplomats. Even when his life had been turned upside down again and he was sent to Minbar so EarthGov could get him off of Babylon 5 and out of their way, he’d still known his friends were out there, and he had made new ones as well. Yet nothing his Minbari friends; Rathenn, Jenimer or even Delenn, could have done would have prepared him for the life and world he had entered. It was astonishing how much of what he’d considered “typically Minbari” was something introduced over the last thousand years. Introduced, he now realized, by himself. So not only was he alone, he was often baffled by the culture around him.

Most of all, even when their careers or prideful disputes kept them apart, he’d had Catherine. Ever since that day she’d turned up on Babylon 5, not knowing he was stationed there; the day they’d ended up back together, his life had forever changed. As soon as Garibaldi had informed him that she was on the station, he’d known, somehow, that this time, they’d finally get it right. And they had. But now he was becoming convinced he had lost her forever. For a while he had placed hope in the fact that he had switched his time stabilizer for hers. Since the Vorlon plans were focused on him, he’d assumed that if something were to go wrong, the stabilizer would have sent him – her -- back here – to this time and place – to become Valen no matter what. So from nearly the moment he’d arrived, he’d been expecting Catherine to appear in his stead. But almost three years had passed, and he was still waiting. Maybe the stabilizer wasn’t designed to do the things he supposed it was. If he never found Catherine, he would be forced to live out the remainder of his life in this time alone, worshipped but never understood, and the terror of this possibility only intensified his need for immediate intimacy. Helpless, caught between his desolation and alienation, his hopelessness and his dread, all that was left for him to act upon was lust. 

As night fell, he’d invited into his house and his bed a Minbari woman who had dared to let him know that she was attracted to him. Whether she was drawn to his physical appearance or to the mystique that surrounded him, he hadn't asked. All he cared to know about her was that she was there, and she was willing. He didn't think about the potential abuse of power he was committing, or that in his heart, where it mattered, he was still engaged to be married. He realized such a liaison was both a sordid and futile way to ease his friendlessness, and he knew too that the guilt and self-contempt he would feel afterwards would more than outweigh any fleeting release he might experience, but against all his better instincts, he'd surrendered to his despair and asked her in.


	4. The Mirror Cracked

\-- 3 --  
\-- THE MIRROR CRACKED--

“No, Draal,” Delenn cried, stepping from The Machine, “this cannot be! This is not the man I left behind on Babylon 4, who I knew so well! He was a True Seeker, Draal; he strove only for the perfection of his soul and the salvation of his race, and never faltered! He would not have done such a thing!”  
“Are you describing a man Delenn, or a god? Have you never had doubts yourself, never let them drive you to some dreadful mistake?” Draal knew how sharply his words had stung, but he continued. “You said you wanted to know what happened to your friend, Jeffrey Sinclair, not watch some Mystery Play about Valen. I warned you against such an undertaking – now you begin to see why. The Vorlons used to say that ‘understanding is a three-edged sword;’ your side, my side and the truth in between – The Great Machine travels along that third edge, Delenn; it can only show us unvarnished reality. So yes, although you may not want to believe it, while he did still love Catherine he also did invite a stranger to share his bed. But I ask you now, Delenn – is your faith in Valen, in your friend Sinclair, so weak that you cannot allow him to misstep or grant him the opportunity to pick himself up from a fall?”  
“No, I, I just…” Delenn dropped her head, deeply troubled. “I have never before had reason to doubt either of him this way; not Jeffrey Sinclair and certainly not Valen. Perhaps I should have listened to your advice, Draal. Perhaps it would be better if I did not know. I simply cannot reconcile what you have shown me with the person I knew.”  
“Delenn,” Draal called kindly, “did you yourself not emerge both changed and fragile from your Chrysalis? You simply expressed your confusion sooner and in different ways. And remember too, you were never so alone as Valen was. You had your faith in his prophecies to guide you – what did he have? Look again, old friend; history may yet hold more surprises for you.” Delenn looked up, head tilted to the side questioningly.  
“Very well -- this time I will heed your words, Draal,” she said softly, moving back to the place reserved for her.


	5. Taking a Closer Look

\-- 4 --  
\-- TAKING A CLOSER LOOK--

As Valen reflected upon the night before from his perch behind the waterfall, it came as no surprise to him that the thing had been a disaster from start to finish.

Although he thought he wanted someone to talk with, he had never been very good with idle chatter, and what else was there to discuss with someone you didn’t really want to get to know? Trying to break the silence, the woman began to thank him, horrifying him, so he asked her not to speak. Her compliance of course made things worse. Somehow they moved to his bedroom and began to undress, but as soon as he put his arms around her and looked down at her standing vulnerably in front of him in a sheer white gown, he remembered the one and only other time he’d held a Minbari woman in an embrace. It was a secret memory he’d never told another living soul about.

Valen closed his eyes, and he could see Delenn clearly, as beautiful as she was alien, self-assured and powerful, in Sinclair’s arms. He opened his eyes to see the stranger who was at his lips, running her hand down his side to his thigh, and he realized there was no way he could go through with what he'd started. It would destroy his memory of that sacred day, the beginning of the very special and eternal friendship he had shared with Delenn. And what if he did find Catherine some day? How could he face her if he lay down with this woman? Finally, how could he possibly use someone else, just because he had lost his hope? It shamed him to realize that had not been the first of these sudden misgivings.

Jeffrey Sinclair had had numerous lovers over the course of his forty-two years, both before and between the times when he and Catherine were in an active relationship, but they had always been exactly that, lovers; women he knew and respected and cared about, women who were girlfriends, partners, companions. Sinclair was too morally constrained a man to have ever participated in a one-night-stand, and he had been pious enough to be proud of it.

“Uh, no,” Valen said, to their mutual confusion, as he caught the woman’s roving hand, “I uh, I didn’t mean for us to … I just, I just wanted some company tonight,” he lied. He could tell by the look on her face that she saw through his dissembling and was either insulted or worried that she’d somehow displeased him. How the hell had he gotten them both into this mess? “Well, okay, I thought I wanted to, but….” Great – now he was exacerbating the situation – after all, she had agreed to this thing – telling her outright that he had misgivings where she didn't was disrespectful. He’d really screwed up this time. “Aw, hell!” he cursed spontaneously.  
“Continuous fire?” she repeated in Minbari, completely perplexed, and he realized he’d slipped up and spoken in English. The ridiculousness of the entire situation made him laugh. Uncertainly, she laughed back. Then they were both laughing; each relieved to have the tension broken. “Look,” he asked, gently removing her other hand from his waist, then throwing a friendly arm around her shoulders and leading them over to the bed, “would you mind just … sleeping with me tonight?” A puzzled and disappointed look on her face, she shook her head, then laid it down on his bare chest. Damn, it did feel good to have someone beside him, to feel her skin against his own. But no, his mind was made up; he was not going to take this any further. “Thanks,” he whispered with sincerity. “I’m sorry I misled you, I just, I just didn’t want to be alone…” Valen’s voice trailed off, and he sighed, desperate for morning. His eyes traced the blue pattern on top of her head in the moonlight, and he thought again about his first meeting with Delenn.


	6. Behind Closed Doors

\-- 5 --  
\-- BEHIND CLOSED DOORS --

Sinclair was stationed on Mars, his ninth post in the seven years since the Earth-Minbari War, and each of them, except for his last assignment, when he had befriended Michael Garibaldi and first seen a Shadow vessel, had been worse than the one before. It seemed his bravery and performance during the War had netted him little more than recurrent nightmares and an overwhelming hatred for anything Minbari. He knew Earth Force was hoping he’d resign his commission and move on into civilian life, and to that end they tried to frustrate him enough to make him leave of his own accord. But Sinclair knew no other way of life and having wanted to be a fighter pilot like his dad since childhood, he'd signed on with Earth Force when he was only nineteen. Other than his brother in Australia, he had no family left, and he and Catherine were “off” in their cyclical “on again, off again” relationship. So what did it matter where they stationed him, so long as he could continue to serve?

Valen remembered that Sinclair was off-duty that day, relaxing with a glass of bourbon and listening to Tennyson when someone rang the buzzer beside the door. Garibaldi had said he would stop by once his shift was over, so without bothering to ascertain who was there, he’d called out for him to enter. The memory was so clear he could still recall the precise line in “Idylls of the King” upon which he turned: “And there be those who deem him more than man, /And dream he dropt from heaven.” It was from the section on the “Coming of Arthur.” 

Sinclair had expected to see his best friend, but instead there she was, the embodiment of everything he despised, the reason his dreams were always full of death, the reason he was still just a Lieutenant-Commander babysitting an unimportant base in a secluded part of Mars. He gaped in disbelief at the Minbari woman who had dared to enter his quarters. He almost couldn’t see her, for all of the rage and confusion her presence inspired. All he ever saw when he looked at a Minbari were the members of his squadron, Mitchell and the rest, dying, one by one; the all-too-rapid and inexorable death of the entire Human race. Yet until that moment when Delenn showed up on Mars, he'd managed to outwardly deny his bitterness over the War and what it had cost him personally. He'd become expert enough at repressing his emotions to pass all of the psychological tests Earth Force threw at him as they tried to prove that he, like nearly all of the other survivors from The Line, suffered from severe post-traumatic stress syndrome. It would have been a convenient excuse to force the hero they no longer trusted into retirement. But he'd bluffed his way through.

Catherine Sakai was the only one who'd ever been close enough to him to have an inkling of what he was hiding. She could read it in his body language, see it in his eyes. On three occasions since the War, the last only a month or two earlier, in fact, Sakai had pressed him about it. Sinclair had denied it utterly, refused to admit that his experience had affected him in any way at all. As he told it, being among the two hundred left alive from a force that had numbered twenty thousand earlier the same morning meant nothing; it hadn't overwhelmed him with survivor's guilt. It was just the nature of war, nothing more. All three times she'd confronted him had marked the beginning of yet another end to their relationship. The pattern was always the same; Sinclair pushed Catherine away emotionally, they fought, and he ended up losing her again. That final time, Catherine had vowed she was through with him for good, swore that she would stay far, far away and never give them the opportunity to get back together again.

Later, as he always did, Sinclair had written a long and passionate letter to Sakai, telling her he still loved her and begging her to return, but this time she didn't respond. Eventually he took the misguided step of entering into a relationship with Carolyn Sykes without even mentioning to her that he'd been on The Line until he was on the verge of being deported to the Vorlon homeworld for trial. Naturally, Carolyn never had the chance to know who he really was, wasn't dating the real Jeffrey Sinclair, and that relationship soon came to its inevitable conclusion. But in between, Delenn had confronted him. He hadn't learned from Delenn the futility of denying the past, any more than she had from him, but he'd learned something. Something extraordinary.

Valen remembered that Sinclair was glaring deep into her eyes, unable to look away, paralyzed by the force of his emotions when he was confronted with the juxtaposition of anger and atonement. 

“Greetings, Lieutenant-Commander, I am Ambassador Delenn,” she began, spinning a ludicrous story about Sinclair being asked to command Babylon 5 – and he figured out what was going on. It had to be part of a set-up to help Earth Force finally get rid of him. Surely she was carrying a recording device, with the goal of obtaining some kind of “evidence” to prove he had been colluding with the Minbari since the War. It was the only explanation that made sense. Now, if such a thing were possible, he was angrier still. “I understand your feelings against me are not personal,” she continued deliberately, “and I realize being in the presence of a Minbari must be difficult for you. I know that during the War, we all did things we now regret ...”  
“Regret?” he choked, stepping in close to her, leaning down toward her face, “Regret! My only regret is that you surrendered before I could take a few Minbari out with me!” he trembled with barely suppressed rage. “Understand? How dare you?” Sinclair demanded, low and gravelly, his hands balled into fists. “Do you have any idea what you've done to me?” he growled with all the fury, self-pity and righteous indignation whirling inside of him. He grabbed her upper arms in each of his powerful hands and for a second Delenn froze in shock. An instant later, she threw herself at him, pressing her body against his and whispering back in return.  
“ I, I apologize,” she burst out softly, her words as shocking to herself as to him, “forgive mm … us. Please forgive us.” 

With those words, Sinclair crumbled, his violent intentions gone. The adrenaline rush of anger drained in a cold chill he felt all the way to his feet, and he stood there stunned, looking down at the bare blue skin atop Delenn's head in confusion, blinking away the water that suddenly filled his eyes. To his surprise he found himself overcome with empathy – what must it have taken for his enemy to say those words, to admit fault? He put his own arms around her, hugging her back tenderly, at first with misgivings but then with warm desire. How was this happening, he wondered; a moment ago I despised everything about this alien, and now, now she's a person, a woman, someone real to me. She's not the enemy. She's not to blame for what others of her race have done, but she's taking responsibility for it. He felt hot with sudden shame; I should be sorry for misjudging her intentions, he thought, for being so quick to hate her. He squeezed Delenn a little more tightly against his chest, almost dizzy with relief. The war was over after all, wasn't it? He didn't have to hate the Minbari anymore, he could let it go. That's what Father Raffelli had been trying to tell him only a few months before, about forgiveness being a gift you gave yourself. Again he pulled Delenn's slight frame closer and relieved of a great burden, he sighed.

When after many long moments they parted and stood at arm's length, their hands joined in friendship, Sinclair found himself transformed, more profoundly, Valen thought, then when he'd left the Chrysalis. Nothing more was said, not then, not ever, as they'd never spoken of that afternoon to anyone, even to one another. It was nothing but five words and a gesture, Valen recalled, five words that changed him forever. 

By the time he'd received the call from the President's secretary, asking him to report to EarthDome for reassignment, he found himself as excited about his future as he'd been when he first graduated from the Academy and was promoted in record time from mere fighter pilot to Squadron Leader in less than a year. It didn't matter to him how he'd ended up on EarthGov's list for the job – he could do it and do it well. He never saw another alien of any race in the same way again. And he knew from then on that Delenn and the Minbari were in some way the key to finding where he really belonged. Little had he known, thought Valen, exactly where and when that place would be.

On Babylon 4, while he tried to find some train of thought to distract him from the unbearable physical pain of his transformation, he had pressed Zathras for one piece of information about the future he left behind, one glimpse of the future irrelevant to the tasks ahead of him as Valen. His question concerned Delenn. Learning that his old friend was deeply in love and would soon marry John Sheridan and that the two of them would eventually have a son together to carry on the Dream of The One, somehow that had eased him through the terrible day of his emergence. That day of pure pain, when the blackened, brittle plates of skin tore from his body and the charred strands of his once lustrous hair pulled away from his scalp in handfuls. 

No, Sinclair had never used women as objects the way Valen did; he brooded ruefully, again eyeing the person curled up against him, sleeping. And yet it was as Valen that he would be remembered with religious fervor. All the more reason to hate himself for what he had, and had almost, done.

“Yes,” Delenn began, “yes; I knew Jeffrey would not have taken advantage of his exalted status as Valen or debased both himself and that woman in such a sordid manner.” She smiled as if vindicated, already forgetting how quickly she had been willing to doubt and condemn her friend. Delenn’s thoughts skipped back to where she had left him, back to the morning at the waterfall. 

She was dismayed by what she witnessed; Valen was banging the back of his head furiously against the rock wall, harder and harder, until his teeth rattled, but his violence barely scratched the rounded protrusions of bone that surmounted the crest around his skull. 

How, Valen demanded of himself, could a body so hard be so weak? He knew no words to describe the anger he felt toward himself and about what he had done. By rote, he found himself sinking to his knees and praying, as he had not done since childhood, praying for strength from a God he had often questioned.

As he did, he thought back to the ease and certainty with which he’d proclaimed his intent to take Babylon 4 into the past; the deliberation with which he’d looked at his Human face in the mirror one final time before placing the Triluminary atop the Chrysalis machine, the calm he felt as he allowed it to spin a cocoon around him. Where, in the last few months, had those feelings gone? About his mission, what Delenn would have termed “the Calling of his Heart,” he had no doubt. But when it came to his own emotional life, he had lost his moral compass. He felt strangely disconnected from the man who stood with great authority before the vast assembly of Minbari elders, in the chamber that held the StarFire Wheel, and promised to unite their world. It had been his first act once he’d arrived on Minbar, less than a year ago, and yet he could barely recall doing it. Had he really prophesied victory over the Shadows and vowed to deliver a thousand years of peace, if only the people would heed him? How could he do those things when he couldn’t even master his own most basic urges?

From memory, he recalled a passage from the Meditations of Marcus Aurelius: “Remember that no man loses any other life than this which he now lives, nor lives any other than this which he now loses … For the present is the only thing of which a man can be deprived.” That explained his problem, didn’t it? As soon as he found the time to yearn for his past, for those things and days and people now gone from his life forever, he subsequently anticipated the future before him as one of solitary misery. Only if he entirely denied himself the right to consider his own wants and needs did he have the requisite strength to succeed at his mission. He must focus solely on this new life, in the here and now, because the present was the only thing he could control, and if he had no needs, he would have nothing to lose. It was the lesson the Vorlon Ulkesh had tried to convince him to accept – “Forget what is personal. Concentrate on the cause.” How arrogant and incorrect he had been to insist to the contrary. As if there were anything he could teach a Vorlon!

As the sunrise reflected off the many mirror-like surfaces of the Minbari landscape, Valen thought about the day ahead; his mornings were spent in practice with the denn'bok, the Minbari fighting pike, and in the afternoon, he was scheduled to go and inspect the progress on the construction of what he had come to think of as the “sacred window.” And there were always reports from the front lines to review. Although in his first two years he had repaired the damage done to Babylon 4 while it was in the rift, and in the last had driven the Shadows back from Minbari space, the War had only just begun. He knew the current calm would not last. He also knew he could not complete the great battle that lay ahead with his mind as troubled as it was and his behavior so out of control. He decided that once those tasks were done he’d begin a fast as penance, spend a few days in seclusion, hoping he could find himself – whomever it was that he was. That would keep him out of trouble and away from temptation for a while at least, and he knew from experience that if he deliberately removed himself from the company of other people, paradoxically, he’d feel less lonely. Valen pulled on his boots, donned his long, silky brown coat, and started back for town.


	7. Taking Another Look

\-- 6 --  
\-- TAKING ANOTHER LOOK--

On the third day of his fast, alone in his bedroom, Valen experienced a strange vision. Suddenly, it was 2260, and he found that he had never left Babylon 5, never gone to live as an Ambassador on Minbar, never sacrificed his identity as Jeffrey Sinclair. It was “night” aboard the Station, and he was alone in C&C, gazing out the observation dome at familiar constellations. He sensed a presence nearby, turned, and saw Kosh behind him.

“Ambassador,” Sinclair greeted the Vorlon evenly, “what are you doing here? Surely you know that this area is off-limits to everyone but authorized station personnel?”  
“I was looking for you,” intoned the Vorlon, the feelers around the collar of his encounter suit turning slowly.   
“I apologize then – I suppose I’m not where you’d expected me to be, am I?”  
“Yes.”  
“Yes I am where you expected, or yes, I’m not?”  
“Yes.”  
“Look, Ambassador,” he said impatiently; “I have a station to run, so unless there is something important….” Sinclair’s words were cut short by the rising cacophony of sounds and music that emanated from the Vorlon’s suit. The iris, in what passed for a head, opened.  
“An arrival. Soon. You must be prepared.”  
“An arrival? Who….” Abruptly, his mind was filled with the emotionally charged memory of Catherine brushing passed him, heading for the door.  
“I should go … I’m sorry … I shouldn’t have come…” Catherine mumbled unconvincingly as Sinclair stood beside her, bewildered and paralyzed by conflicting emotions. There was what he wanted and what he thought he should want; what his heart and his body begged him to do versus the cold, logical orders that formulated in his mind. He’d been back and forth between the two poles a thousand times since Garibaldi had first told him she was aboard the station – alone. The struggle had only intensified since his dinner with her the night before.

It should have been a relief when she’d forbidden him to walk her to her rented room afterwards – they both knew nothing could have kept him from her bed if he’d come within twenty paces of the door. But this time, they pretended to agree, things would be different. This time they were allegedly wise enough and mature enough to resist falling back into bed together. So he’d bid her good night with a chaste peck on her cheek, told her to feel free to visit Babylon 5 on business whenever it suited her, and walked away without permitting himself to look back. Yet relief was perhaps the one emotion he didn’t feel.

All night long, he’d wandered aimlessly around the Station, lost in memory. All day, he’d been next to useless, going through the motions of his job, smiling pleasantly at alien ambassadors and fielding suggestions from the command staff as to how he might consider showcasing “Earth’s dominant belief system.” About the only time when he’d felt fully present, genuinely alert, was at the Minbari rebirthing ceremony. But even sharing that secret, knowing look with Delenn got him thinking about Catherine – about how she and Delenn were the only women who’d ever really gotten inside him. Either of them could turn his world upside down with a word or a glance – Delenn had done it once; Catherine had been doing it since the day they’d first met, back in 2243.  
He still hadn’t sorted out his feelings for Delenn, and the way she’d looked at him and then eaten that piece of fruit … sweet Jesus! Funny how until that moment he’d never wondered if Delenn might be interested in him, or considered the possibility of a relationship with her. But it didn’t matter. He couldn’t figure out where Delenn fit into his life until he knew whether or not Catherine was willing to give him another chance. In the end, all his thoughts came back around to Catherine, although they weren’t easy thoughts.

For every fond memory, for every recollection of the passion they’d shared over the years, he had another memory of them fighting – conflict had marred their partnership right from the start. Only the Minbari, at The Line, had ever ignited in him the same primal fury Catherine could. She questioned everything he told her, challenged his beliefs and his motives; claimed he was hiding behind duty and responsibility and had dedicated himself to an ungrateful government because he was afraid of making solid plans for a future with her. She wasn’t as misguided about the importance of his career as Carolyn Sykes had been; she knew she’d never get him to quit Earth Force, but she dared to demand that he make room for something more. And when she wasn’t attacking his ideals, she drove him crazy with her reckless and impulsive behavior; then compounded his frustration by continually accusing him of having a death wish of his own. It was only in the last few months, since Garibaldi had confronted him after the Ikaran incident, that he recognized some small truth in her old complaints. 

Was that realization enough to make the difference, or was there simply too much pain, too much wounded pride between them for things to ever change? Were they doomed to forever torture one another, whether they were together or apart? For that matter, was it really love that motivated them, or did they come together time and again for the sex and then lie to themselves that there was something more there? The sex, after all, was phenomenal. On that, at least, they’d always agreed. 

No, it was far more complicated than lust; not that lust wasn’t a good part of the equation. And there she was – in his quarters – just a few short paces from his bed. She was flirting desperately with him, teasing him with her relentlessly cheerful patter and tormenting him with carnal thoughts as she lasciviously licked whipped cream from her fingers and offered him whiskey. Does she imagine my years of study with the Jesuits included lessons on renouncing the flesh? Just how much of this does she figure I can stand before I lose control? Does she want me to lose control? Do I want to?

“Don’t …” he began, as she swept past him. “Don’t go,” he was going to say, but he couldn’t get the words out. “Don’t leave like this. Don’t keep playing this old game …” Sinclair thought the words, but never said them.  
“You can have the flarn, I never …” Their bodies touched for an explosive instant.   
“Catherine …” he declared, seizing hold of her arm before she could walk out of his life. He couldn’t let her do that, not again. Not this time. He knew she still loved him – she as much as said so before. And he, God help him, he had never stopped loving her.   
“Don’t touch me unless you mean it!” she cried, echoing his thoughts, her nostrils flaring. Even as she whipped her arm from his grasp, Catherine froze in place, neither moving to the door nor into his arms; testing him. And for a few seconds, his own face contorted with anger and passion, his heart pounding wildly, Sinclair hesitated as well, considering the enormity of the moment. 

This is it. You’ve prayed for this opportunity, and now it’s here. Take her now, he warned himself, or you’ll never get another chance – ever. Let her go, or you’ll have to fully commit yourself to making it work, to holding nothing back. And there was no guarantee they could make it work. Meanwhile, his career was finally back on track – was it worth it to risk it all on the slim hope of recapturing the love they’d shared in their youth? He pretended to weigh his options, but he’d already made his decision; made it when he’d left the Centauri bacchanalia to look for her.

Tentatively, he reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, and as he leaned in toward her lips, he felt her relax beneath his fingertips. Slowly, slowly, savoring the anticipation, he lowered his lips to touch hers and breathed in her familiar essence. Relinquishing herself to the inevitable, Catherine draped her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him. He slipped his own arms around her shoulders and waist and crushed her to him in what may have been the longest uninterrupted kiss they’d ever exchanged. The years of anger, pain, loss and misunderstanding seemed to evaporate in the heat between them. Eleven years later, Valen could still remember every move they had made, every sound they had uttered. And so in his memory, Valen remembered.

After many long minutes, Sinclair left Sakai’s lips long enough to gently take her hand and pull her away from the kitchenette. He paused at the foot of the single step that separated the bedroom area of his quarters from the living room and kissed her again, brushing the hair from her face and tracing the beckoning contours of her torso with his hands before surrounding her again with his arms. Catherine was moving even more quickly than he was; she slipped her hands under his shirt and pushed it up along his back, wordlessly hurrying him into lowering his head and shucking it off. She pressed her hands against his bare chest, tilted her head up again and kissed him so hard she drew blood. Dragging her with him, Sinclair stumbled up the stair, reached back and found the edge of the frosted glass door with the toe of his shoe, then shoved it open. He ached to take her across the threshold to the bed, but suddenly, something was in the way. Hell! Why did he always have to think so damn much? 

Sinclair squeezed his eyes shut, mustering up the courage to ask the question that his heart was demanding an answer to. Shivering, all of his muscles taut with exquisite tension, he tore himself from her lips and opened his eyes again.

“Catherine,” he gasped, and puzzled, she looked at him. “Are you sure you want to be here? You said you don’t care just now, but Catherine … I care … it matters to me.“ He dropped his arms from around her. “I couldn’t take it if you walked out in the morning with regrets …” There was no point in reticence now. The act of saying the words aloud was frightening, but admitting it, acknowledging it, wasn’t. Not anymore. “I love you, Catherine. I’ve always loved you. All these years …” Catherine’s eyes grew wide and her mouth gaped open as if she were about to reply, but she was struck mute. Sinclair winced at her reaction and began turning away in embarrassment when she threw herself at him again, covering his confused face with kisses and taking him into an enthusiastic embrace.  
“I’ve wanted to hear you say that for so long …” she gasped between kisses. Sinclair pushed her down on the bed as he sought out her tongue with his own. They kissed one another almost frantically; as if they were each afraid they’d awaken and suddenly find themselves alone. 

Valen shook himself out of his trance, impulsively reached up in the darkness and felt the top of his head. No hair, only bone. It had been a hallucination, a memory, nothing more. Watching, Delenn mimicked his motions, breaking her connection with The Great Machine.

“Are you all right, Delenn?” Draal asked in concern.  
“Yes. Yes, I, I don’t know how many times I have awoken and made that gesture myself, Draal. It was just so familiar, I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing … I’m all right. I am ready to continue.”


	8. Seen Through Tempered Glass

\-- 7 --  
\-- SEEN THROUGH TEMPERED GLASS –

“You simply do not understand, Kadenn,” Valen replied wearily, addressing the large and angry leader of the Wind Swords warrior clan who stood challengingly before him, in front of the partially completed palace Valen had ordered constructed. The centerpiece of the design was a huge, semi-symmetrical gate-like structure centered in front of the Great Falls of Yedor, where six enormous waterfalls converged. Valen called it the sacred window. From the rock cliffs in the foreground, workmen were carving the angular support of gleaming blue crystal, into which a uniquely Minbari stained-glass window would be set. This artwork would be cut from sheets of precious aqua, cerulean and coral-colored translucent minerals. Valen’s intent was to forever link this already renowned location with the heart of the new government he would soon found. He also wanted those who would reside there -- the future Grey Council -- to be able to see this majestic sight from throughout the palace, so that they would never forget the land they would rule. It would be a century after he passed beyond before the Council would subvert his intentions and move permanently aboard a Cruiser out among the stars. 

Nine days into his self-imposed fast, Valen was beginning to feel his body falter and betray him, and he leaned heavily on his opened pike for support. He tried his best to make his stance seem casual, and from the faint glimmer of fear Valen saw in Kadenn’s eyes, he assumed his ruse was successful. He was glad for the concealment his long, loose outer robe afforded him – underneath it his knees were buckling.   
“It is not a question of your physical talents in personal combat. In space, against the Shadows and their allies, such attributes are largely irrelevant. You must understand why we fight; you must commit to killing only when it is necessary to advance the peace. To do otherwise makes us no different than the Great Enemy. And so that understanding is what is required in order to join the Army of Light under my command. And that is why I must again refuse your request.” Valen feared that if the confrontation went on much longer, he would have to deliver his words while laying prone in the dirt – a thought so undignified as to be impossible.  
“Perhaps you do not know to whom you speak, Entil’Zha,” the stocky man challenged, the knuckles around his retracted denn’bok white with tension. “You have not walked among us long, so you may not realize the proud tradition of my family.”   
Valen broke his steady gaze for just a moment, noting the growing circle of Warrior and Religious Caste onlookers who had joined the construction workers gathered around them, hanging on his every word. He hoped none of them could see the trembling he felt in his thighs and hands. The rest of his work here was done for the day. This really had to end soon so he could return home and lay down, maybe finally eat something.  
“I have heard enough,” Valen rasped, “you are dismissed.” He waved his hand and lost his balance, began to fall backwards. He blinked and then saw Kadenn’s weapon sweep past him into the empty space where his head had just been, as the crowd gasped in unison. Instinctively, he swung his own pike, accurately, and with all his remaining energy. It caught Kadenn’s denn’bok and struck it from his hands. Even before the pole hit the stone with a metallic clatter, three or four Minbari had Kadenn immobilized and forced him to his knees before Valen. The crowd had interpreted his near-collapse as a brilliant anticipatory response to Kadenn’s intentions. Ironic how things always seemed to fall in his favor. 

The mob was restless now, awaiting Kadenn’s punishment, calling for his head, and, Valen reflected, they probably meant it literally.   
“Release him, “ Valen ordered, then bluffing, “he poses no threat to me.” It was the ultimate insult, especially among those Minbari who had learned from his kitchen staff that Valen had taken nothing but water for over a week. There were knowing murmurs, nudges between those assembled, nods of ascent and agreement. “I have … important matters to concern myself with,” he concluded, managing to turn about neatly as he closed his pike and then strode from the area. 

As was so often the case, Zathras appeared from nowhere, took Valen’s elbow and helped support him as he walked.  
“You must eat, rest,” admonished Zathras, who led Valen to an awaiting ground transport. Valen shook his head as he sat down inside.  
“You may take me home, Zathras.”   
Zathras came around the other side of the vehicle, took his own seat at the controls, clicking his tongue against his teeth in disapproval. Valen was amused, as always, but he was also exhausted. 

Yet it seemed to him that the longer he denied the demands of his body, the sharper his mind became. He closed his eyes and pondered the confrontation that had just taken place. It was not the first, and such incidents seemed to be increasing in frequency. As his own reputation grew; as stories returned from space about how the use of Valen’s tactics, ships, weapons and base were delivering the Minbari and their allies from what had seemed imminent defeat by the Shadows, (he had already heard the word “miraculous” used; it made him nauseous) more and more warriors clamored for permission to enter his service. A few members of the other two castes had also approached him, and despite his own willingness to break down such barriers, Valen knew he could not afford to risk too much change too soon. Permitting women from within the Warrior Caste an equal role had already been enough. 

As important as it was to unite these fractious people, Valen had no intention of enlisting the aid of those who sought to fight merely to kill. Despite his career as an officer in Earth Force, he could never perceive any glory in killing – it was abhorrent to gain any pleasure from taking away another sentient being’s life. At times, in self-defense, it was necessary, but that made it no less appalling a thing to have to do. Sinclair had seen death in too many places, in too many ways, too many times, and by the end of the War he would have been content to fly only on patrol and never fire a weapon again. It was ironic to find himself in a time of phenomenal violence, to have to plunge headlong into a continuous battle of epic proportions when he had come to think of himself as a man of peace. Valen mirrored his views after the words of the Tao Te Ching, which stated that a truly worthy leader should enter battle as if he were attending a funeral – with sorrow and great compassion. Those Minbari who did not understand that principle would not be welcome in his army. What to do about those individuals was the question – he couldn’t afford to fight a war on two fronts. It seemed the time for establishing The Grey Council was at hand, whether Valen was ready for it or not.

Valen had hoped the Vorlons would be of more help to him. They visited him when he was aboard Babylon 4 often, but only, it seemed, to watch him and make certain he performed up to their expectations. He had questioned more than once whether they were actually angry with him – angry ever since the first time he had seen them out of their encounter suits and not been properly awestruck like the Minbari. Just because they looked like some kind of heavenly choir didn’t mean he was going to bow down and worship them. Ulkesh’s response to Catherine’s appearance and disappearance into his life on Minbar in 2259 had spoken volumes. Sinclair did not believe God would try to deny his creatures delight -- yet that had been Ulkesh’s goal for him. Thus, the Vorlons were not godly. So he would work with them, because it seemed he must, but the only one he had ever trusted at all was Kosh. Still, he wished the Vorlons would tell him whether or not he could assume that the decisions he reached now would be the same as what he had done as Valen the first time around. It was a terribly complicated way to try to think. Maybe they didn’t know the answer either.

Gradually, he became aware that Zathras was chattering at him. Valen opened his eyes and was relieved to see his small, one-story house before him. Like all of the dwellings in Tuzanor, it had been carved from a single, enormous stone. He rose – too quickly – and had to reach back to steady himself as dizzy, brilliant stars appeared before his eyes. For a brief moment, he saw them as exploding ships -- as if he were again witnessing his squadron’s destruction at The Battle of The Line. Then he recalled the biological effects he knew were inevitable, even to a Minbari, during a prolonged fast. He was fine. He was awake, he was on Minbar, in the City of Sorrows; he’d just stood up too fast. The latter truth was what he snapped at Zathras as his servant began to lecture him again. Valen brushed past him and headed for his office, where he shut the door, then pressed his back against it, caught his breath and tried to ignore the wooziness he felt. Maybe he was a bit peevish – he’d apologize to Zathras … but later. He was too tired for it now. Haltingly, he crossed the room, reached his desk chair and sank into it with a sigh and another burst of dancing lights in front of his eyes.

He had never actually decided how long he was going to punish himself; how long his fast would last, but he wasn’t ready to end it – not yet. His body was crying out, breaking down, but that was the whole point. He’d never felt so spiritually free before – it was as if his body belonged to someone else. Someone rather loud and annoying, to be sure (Londo Mollari? he asked himself, and laughed), but no one of consequence. He’d just used up a bit too much energy disarming Kadenn, that was all. Who knew what revelations might follow still more denial? Surely Marcus Aurelius was correct when he had written that “nothing happens to any man which he is not formed by nature to bear.” 

Valen sighed and wished he had spent even more time memorizing his favorite works of literature over the years, but then why would Sinclair have ever thought to do so? No matter where he’d traveled, he’d always been able to bring along a few real books and any number of recorded texts – until he’d traveled back in time. Next to losing Catherine, the most painful moment of his life had to be the one in which he erased the entire database on Babylon 4 of information from and about Earth. The Minbari would not meet Humans for nearly nine hundred years, and it was one thing if he spoke words he recalled from some other source and allowed them to consider it his own prophetic wisdom and another for the Minbari to read the Bible or Shakespeare for themselves. He thought back on his adult life and could only recall three other instances in which he had actually cried, allowed tears to stream down his face. The first was when he awoke in his crippled Starfury and heard the news that the War had ended while he was unconscious. The second was when he was alone, after Delenn had begged for forgiveness on Mars. The third was over losing Catherine somewhere in time. In the end, Sinclair had set up the computer sequence necessary to wipe the database and asked Zathras to actually press the required buttons. But he still cried – it felt like he was committing some sort of genocide.

Valen appraised the piles of paperwork on his desk and consciously widened his eyes, trying to keep them open. He selected a document and saw to his dismay that it concerned another conflict between the Minbari Star Rider and Fire Wings clans out in space. As if the Shadows and their allies weren’t taking a heavy enough toll on his Army of Light, intra-caste struggles continued unabated. He closed his eyes, trying to think of a way to speed up his plans for uniting the Warrior Caste’s five largest clans under the umbrella of the Anla’shok. He had no intention of sleeping, but he had pushed his body as far as it would go, and so as Valen sat there in his office chair, sleep came to him nonetheless. And along with slumber came another graphic dream.


	9. A Sight for Sore Eyes

\-- 8 --  
\-- A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES --

Once more, Kosh appeared before him, admonishing:   
“An arrival. Soon. Prepare.” Kosh pulled away from him, and Valen saw he was at the controls of a Starfury. He didn’t recognize where he was flying; the stars were all unfamiliar, but his onboard computer quickly picked up on something.  
“Unidentified object ahead.”  
“Where – show me?” Valen asked. On the monitor, the outline of a small, strange ship appeared. “Identify.”

Time in the dream seemed to have jumped ahead suddenly, because now he was working the grapple to grab onto something, something he couldn’t quite make out. It was as if the inside of his flight helmet had suddenly fogged over –he’d taken hold of an object with the grapple, but what was it?

Now he was Sinclair again, and sitting beside him, her shoulders pressed against his outstretched arm, was Catherine. She was smiling and wearing a black dinner dress, and when he followed her gaze, he saw they were in the Fresh Air café on Babylon 5, announcing their engagement to Susan and Michael. But standing behind them was Kosh. The music rose from his encounter suit.  
“And so it begins.” Sinclair looked to Catherine, but now it was Delenn in her seat.  
“We were right about you,” she said. “You deserve some reward.”   
“What is going on here?” Valen complained, abruptly awakening. He opened his eyes and there in front of his opened office door was the Vorlon himself. Valen blinked, disbelieving the apparition before him. “Kosh?”  
“Yes.” It was Kosh. Even more incredible, Valen realized, was that he somehow knew this Kosh, recognized his essence as Kosh touched his mind. This was not the first meeting between them, no, Kosh was familiar, he was …  
“You’re not from this time either! You’re the Kosh I knew as Sinclair! You’re from the future!”  
“Yes.” Valen felt blood rushing from his head, saw the room shimmer in front of him, and realized he was about to pass out from shock. He lowered his head and waited until the dizziness passed. Then he rose from his chair and leaned his weight upon the fists he planted on the desk.  
“How, how can this be? What are you doing here? What …”  
“You have been awaiting her,” Kosh said, filling Valen’s mind with a tantalizing image of Catherine Sakai. “She arrives. Soon.” Valen was on his feet, now oblivious to his previous weakness.  
“When, how? What do I need to do?” he exclaimed, moving toward his unexpected visitor.  
“It will be revealed. When the time is right.” Kosh turned slowly on his axis, and glided out of the room. Valen leaned against the doorway, thrilled by the answer to his prayers. He was going to be reunited with Catherine. He would no longer be alone, unknown. Nothing else mattered.

Delenn gasped in surprise, called out to Draal cheerfully; “They were reunited, Draal? Why did you try to warn me against doing this? Why didn’t you tell me yourself?” Draal stood before her, reached for her hand, and as she stepped, somewhat disoriented, from the Machine, she realized it was Draal himself, and not a projection.  
“I was overly cautious, I suppose. Come, my dear friend, you have seen what you hoped to see. Let us leave it at that.” The smile faded from Delenn’s face.  
“What do you mean, ‘leave it at that?’ You are keeping something from me, Draal; we have known each other far too long for me not to see that. What happened? Was Jeffrey not able to get to her in time? Did something happen?”  
“Well, yes, Delenn, ‘something happened;’ something always happens. But haven’t you seen enough for one day?” Delenn took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Draal knew what that meant. She’d always had quite a rebellious streak for a Minbari. All of Valen’s descendants did.   
“I have learned just how dangerous it is to make decisions based upon half of the truth. I see now that the records the Religious Caste has about Valen tell us even less than that. Perhaps that is why the peace he gave us did not last even longer – if we’d known more … I still have not seen what I set out to see, Draal. I still have not seen if my friend was ever happy. Send me back,” she demanded, returning to her place at the machine. “I must know – all of it.”


	10. Over the Transom

\-- 9 --  
\-- OVER THE TRANSOM --

Time had never before seemed to move as slowly as it did to Valen after Kosh’s appearance, and yet he managed it with a newly found grace. Even the construction workers laboring on the sacred window and the priests at his favorite Temple noticed a difference in his mood, although only the latter dared to mention it to him. Valen’s general response was to emphasize the beauty of a patch of nearby flowers, or to remark upon the always spectacular view of the mountains from Tuzanor, but if his comings and goings were not so carefully watched by the populace around him, some might have concluded that Valen was in love. 

Everyone knew that was impossible however, especially in light of the story a young Minbari woman had told about the Entil’Zha’s profoundly chaste and decorous behavior after she’d attempted to offer herself to him. There was considerable debate at the Great Temple as to whether or not Valen was suggesting a new code of conduct for the Religious Caste, and there was a brief fad among some in taking vows of celibacy, until Valen learned of it and expressly forbade it. But as far as anyone knew, Valen hadn’t been intimate with anyone since his arrival. So it couldn’t be love.

Valen was meeting with the leaders of the Workers’ Caste. He’d hoped to talk with them about the way the other two Castes treated them and to discuss the grievances he was sure the Workers had about the situation, but it was proving quite a challenge. In fact, Valen found himself thinking with great fondness of Neeoma Connelly, the Docker’s Guild representative on Babylon 5, and actually longed for their heated negotiations. With her, he knew what the ground rules were. With the situation here, well, he wasn’t sure how the hell to handle it. The Workers’ Caste elders were so awed by his unprecedented gestures of respect to them that he could hardly get a conversation going with them at all. 

“Please, Adrall,” Valen asked for the third time, “stand up. I am only a man, nothing more. It is … unseemly for you to kneel before me as though I were some sort of god.”  
“Apologies, Entil'Zha,” the elder begged, rising quickly but keeping his eyes aimed firmly at the floor. “We did not mean to offend you …”  
“No, no, it’s all right, I’m not offended, I just …” This never worked. If he wasn’t careful, they’d start sacrificing their first born children to him. Valen sighed inaudibly. At least he’d finally gotten one of them to speak. He’d have to be grateful for that. “Your opinions and insights are important to me, Adrall, but I can’t take them into consideration if you won’t tell me what they are!” Adrall glanced nervously at the other men and women beside him.  
“Our opinions are of no consequence, Entil’Zha, and you are beyond graciousness in implying that our existence matters to anyone, least of all to you.” He swept his hand to the side to encompass his companions as Valen shifted uneasily at his deferential display. “We know our place, Entil’Zha and it is not for us to discuss our petty and insignificant troubles with holy men or warriors.”  
“We’re all equals before the Universe,” Valen remarked earnestly. Adrall gasped in horror at the suggestion.  
“Certainly not, Entil'Zha! We are laborers, nothing more. But you, you walk with the angels! We would never presume to even …” There was a loud crash from the back of the room and the entire assembly turned to see the cause.  
Someone had thrown open the crystalline door to the chamber with such sudden violence that it had shattered and fell from its hinges in ugly shards. Valen spied the culprit and had to raise a hand to his lips to stifle his laughter, lest Adrall think he was mocking him.   
“Oops. Is bad, very bad,“ a shaggy figure at the back of the room pronounced hurriedly to no one in particular. “Much apologizings. Zathras come back later, Zathras fix, yes? Zathras use better hardware. But Zathras in much hurry now, bring message for The One …”  
“A message, Zathras?” Valen called out to his mysterious assistant. “From whom?” Bowing and nodding, Zathras worked his way through the astonished crowd until he stood beside Valen. 

Zathras was a hairy, peculiar-looking man, unlike any alien the Minbari had encountered before or since his arrival with Valen on Babylon 4. He shunned their fine, elegant clothes, choosing instead to dress in a wardrobe of mangy furs and coarse weavings. His teeth were stained and broken, his gait a strange shuffle, and he was prone to talking to himself in a code of clicks and whistles not even Valen appeared to understand. It would have been difficult, in fact, to imagine someone more the polar opposite to Valen. Where Valen was tall, attractive and dignified, Zathras was short, ugly, strange and comical. Valen drew people to him with his compassionate charisma. Zathras sent them fleeing. And yet the two had arrived together with Valen’s Great Station and the blessings of the angelic Vorlons; as enigmatic as it was, the truth was apparent to all the Minbari: Valen and Zathras came as a package deal. 

Valen’s assistant looked around at the eager faces of the Worker Caste elders and then smiled.   
“Message is from the angel Valeria!” he announced, further fueling the worshipful silence that surrounded Valen. “He tells Zathras to go, bring Valen, now, so Zathras go …”  
“A revelation!” Adrall exclaimed, and Valen himself was so excited by the implications of Kosh’s instructions that he failed to take his usual time in downplaying it for the Minbari. If Kosh was sending for him, it could only mean one thing – Catherine!  
“I, I’m terribly sorry, Adrall,” Valen said, holding out his hands in a hurried but genuine apology, “we’ll have to continue this some other time …” The others bowed and stumbled over each other as they tried to get out of Valen’s way. By the time Valen and Zathras had made it to their flyer, the caste leaders had already deemed Zathras’ announcement a sign of divine favor upon the proceedings. 

Valen grabbed the controls of their ground transport himself and arrived back at his house in record time. A quick solo trip to Minbar’s central spaceport took him to a remarkable final destination: deep inside the bowels of a Vorlon ship. 

Valen had never anticipated having the opportunity to see the inside of such a vessel, and so he came to the experience without expectations. As he and an encounter-suited Kosh had approached, the yellow-green skin of the hull seemed to swirl and melt, revealing an opening. Valen ducked his head slightly and entered, beguiled by what he found. 

Nothing.

The entire ship was a hollow repeat of the exterior – there were no visible controls, monitors, rooms or furnishings, just a slowly moving mass of chartreuse metal. The walls felt solid to Valen’s touch, and yet they seemed to be constantly shifting and changing. And then, there was the music that enveloped him like a warm bath. The ship was somehow communicating with him through wordless songs. As soon as Valen found himself thinking that he would like a place to sit down, the ship responded, creating a chair for him. When he wondered what was taking place outside the ship, a view screen conveniently appeared. 

Only a few moments later, the encounter suit Valen thought of as “being” Kosh opened beside him, and without warning, Kosh himself flooded the cabin, not veiled as the angel Gabriel, but as an amorphous, crystalline being of pure golden light. Despite his usual skepticism where the Vorlons were concerned, Valen found himself overwhelmed with wonderment at the sight. Seeing the true Kosh touched something deep and primal inside of him, a core of emotion and sensation he never knew existed. If it was half the feeling the Minbari experienced when they saw a Vorlon as an angel, then Valen finally understood their reaction. His flesh had become the only barrier between his own physical presence and Kosh’s essence, and this evoked an almost erotic response. It was a profoundly personal, ecstatic experience. 

The ship’s song seemed to intensify once its living skin made contact with Kosh, and it caused Valen to recall the words of the medieval writer Margery of Kempe, who claimed that she had heard the music of Heaven as a “melody so sweet that it surpassed all melody that ever might be heard in this world.” He had to fight to remind himself he was not hearing music from God, but the sounds of a Vorlon vessel. After a while, he gave up the struggle, and let the ship sing him to sleep.

Some change in the music awoke him some time later and as he wondered where they were and what was going on, a view screen again appeared before him. On it, he could see a small and vaguely familiar shape in the distant star field before them. As they approached, he realized it was the prototype Minbari-Vorlon ship Catherine had been flying in. 

Sakai’s ship was mewling to the one Valen was in with Kosh; calling and crying like a lost kitten. But even as Valen’s excitement over having located her mounted, an enormous, shimmering black Shadow vessel quivered into being. Kosh’s ship seemed to sing the answers to Valen’s unspoken questions: this Shadow ship was also from the future. All of the First Ones had their own costly ways to manipulate time, and the Shadows were no exception. They had somehow discovered when and where Catherine was going to emerge – just as they had tried to control the rift and to destroy Babylon 4, they knew of Sakai’s significance to Valen, and knew of the defeat he would bring them. So they aimed to kill her. Never before had they entered so close to Vorlon territory. 

As Kosh’s ship swung around to intercept the Shadows, the enemy apparently weighed the odds of the situation, and to Valen’s great relief, vanished the way it had arrived. Delenn and Draal understood why; knowing as Valen could not, that according to the rules of engagement between the First Ones, neither would directly attack the other. Having missed their opportunity to reach Catherine first, even if only by seconds, the Shadows had no choice but to withdraw. 

As Kosh’s ship slung out an arm of material toward Catherine’s ship and with it pulled it close, Valen wondered about Kosh’s journey to meet them in the past. The ship again caroled a response. Kosh would pay a great price, but because he knew of Valen’s deep needs, he’d decided it had to be done. The song that surrounded him entered a melancholy key and Valen realized the ship would also die a little for having made the trip. There was no technology, even available to the Vorlons, that could completely negate the effects jumping back and forth across a thousand years would have on an organic ship a couple of hundred meters long. Sinclair had been right in his original assessments back on Babylon 4. It wasn’t journeying back in time that posed a problem; it was the return trip. After his unprotected travels, if he’d gone forward a mere four years to 2260 with his friends, it would have killed him. It was only because the Chrysalis had remade him into Valen, a member of a longer-lived race than Humans, that his vitality had been restored. Because there were no races that lived longer than the First Ones, there was no such option for Kosh. 

Despite the ready answers to his questions, Valen was uncomfortable with the way Kosh and his ship were able to read his mind. He wondered if this was what telepaths experienced when they let down their mental guards. If so, Valen was relieved that he was not so gifted. For all his fame, for all the analysis he knew would be performed upon his every word and action after he had passed beyond, Valen was still a very private man, uncomfortable with the idea of anyone else accessing his thoughts. But like it or not, the three of them were bound together, and so as Valen again wondered what would happen to Kosh, the answer became immediately apparent to him. When Kosh returned to 2260, where he had come from, Ulkesh would be enraged with his meddling. Due to his long years of association with humanoids, particularly Valen, Kosh was considered something of a retrograde, a backslider. The other Vorlons thought he had gone soft, gone native, and there would be a price for that too. As much as the rest of the Vorlons respected Kosh’s wisdom and experience, Valen could tell from the tone of the ship’s melody that Kosh would return to the future and find himself very much alone. Of that feeling, the ship and Valen sang the same, familiar and heart-rending song. 

“Draal?” Delenn interjected, “The damage that trip did to Kosh … I have always puzzled over how easily the Shadows who accompanied Morden were able to kill Kosh … was this why? Did his willingness to help Valen cost Kosh that much?"  
“Yes,” Draal answered simply. “Yes. But Kosh knew how much more fragile we humanoids are – both physically and spiritually. Valen had already given all he could – without emotional support he had no more to give. And yet more would be needed from him. Much more. Kosh had no such needs to consider. He had the energy; he had the ability, so he did what had to be done.” Delenn nodded slowly, gravely, considering this revelation. 

At that moment, Catherine’s small ship was extruded through the walls of Kosh’s ship. Valen ran to it and opened the cockpit, finding her unconscious, but alive and apparently uninjured. As he lifted Catherine from her seat and held her in his arms, inhaled the smell of her skin and her hair, the ship’s music responded joyfully, leaving Valen with the remarkable impression that Kosh, or at least Kosh’s ship, was celebrating with him. 

Valen sat with Catherine across his lap, her head and torso supported by his arms, blissfully contemplating her face for the many, many, long hours they spent in hyperspace, en route to Sector 14 and Babylon 4. Part of him selfishly wished she were awake, but he understood why the Vorlons had always been so careful to keep Humans and the other Younger Races at a distance – the feelings he was experiencing from such proximity to Kosh were nearly overwhelming. No matter what pleasurable moments lay ahead of him; either making love with Catherine, or holding each of their children for the first time, nothing would ever match the rapture he felt as the Vorlon ship shared his exuberance at this reunion. Forever after, like Margery following her divine vision, any time Valen was happy he would recall the songs of Kosh’s ship and feel a measure of loss for their absence.


	11. See For Yourself

\-- 10 --  
\-- SEE FOR YOURSELF --

“Catherine? Catherine – can you hear me?” Sakai struggled to regain consciousness at the sound of Sinclair's voice. He must have towed her ship back to normal space and out of the rift after she blacked out.  
“Jeff?” she asked, her own voice blurry as she continued to fight to awaken. “Jeff – is that you?”  
“I’m right here, Catherine. You’re going to be okay.” 

Finally, she was able to open her leaden eyelids onto a darkened room. The bed she was lying on was soft and flat, quite unlike those aboard their Minbari transport ship. Slowly, because any movement made her feel light-headed, she turned her head in the direction of Sinclair’s voice. Sakai blinked her eyes and tried to focus. At last, she could see him, smiling at her from beneath the dark brown hood of his Ranger uniform. He had it pulled a bit too far forward, so that all she could really make out was his mouth, his nose, and a glimpse of his eyes.

“Where are we, Jeff? What happened? Were we able to close the rift in time?” The smile on his partially exposed face faded, then he gave her a rueful half-grin, the kind that made his dimples stand out.  
“The mission was successful. But Catherine …” a world of trouble echoed in that pause, “the rest is going to take quite a bit of explaining. How do you feel?”   
“Truthfully? Not so great. I feel dizzy and a little nauseous … but I guess I’ll be all right. What’s going on, Jeff?” She started to reach out to brush the hood away from his face so she could see him better, but he intercepted her, capturing both of her hands in his own, which were shaking slightly. Catherine’s confusion grew, and then Sinclair spoke.  
“Catherine, do you trust me?”  
“What kind of question is that to ask your fiancée? What ….” His next words overlapped her own.  
“It’s just that, well, the things I have to tell you are pretty incredible. But I swear to you, Catherine, I swear to God, they’re true.”  
“What is it?” she asked, her voice panicky. Sinclair drew in a long, long breath.  
“Catherine, it’s not 2259 anymore,” he whispered, barely audible. It was his voice that frightened her more than his words – she knew Jeff well enough to know that the more upset he was, whether with anger or grief, the more quietly he spoke. “I know that to you, only minutes or hours seem to have passed, but your ship flew into the rift, and I’ve been waiting for you for nearly four years.”  
“Oh my God …” she murmured, and Sinclair sighed again.  
“That’s not the worst of it yet, either. Are you ready?” He squeezed her hands as she nodded silently. “The rift didn’t take you forward, Catherine. I didn’t trust the Vorlons to protect anyone but me so I’d switched our time stabilizers before we left … like you always said, I worried about you too much … your stabilizer took you to where – when – they wanted to be sure I’d go. You emerged someplace near the Vorlon homeworld – Kosh took us back from there in his ship, and he wouldn’t allow you on board unless you were unconscious. Are you sure you’re ready for the rest?” Catherine barely moved her head to nod this time, her heart pounding furiously.  
“There's more?” she asked fearfully.  
“Remember how I told you the Minbari said no one else had ever lived in that house in Tuzanor? No one but Valen?” They inhaled together as he released her hands and moved his to the hood of his robe. “Catherine, the truth is that I’m the only one who’s ever lived there …” He pulled back the cowl, revealing not his normally bushy eyebrows and a full head of black hair, but the bare, heavy brow ridges, bald scalp and bone crest of a Minbari. “I am Valen, Catherine. I always have been. We’ve gone back in time nearly a thousand years.”

Catherine came to again to the accustomed sensation of Jeff’s hand running gently along her temples. Could it all be just a nightmare? But when she opened her eyes … it was true. The man stroking her face, leaning over her with a pained expression of concern was a Minbari she didn’t know, but he definitely had Jeff’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Catherine. I’m so sorry.” Sakai tried to focus on those eyes, that unmistakeable voice, kept searching for the man she knew and loved, but it was hard to get past the shock and the disbelief and the bone that covered his head.  
“Is it really you, Jeff? Are you …” she stopped speaking at the sight of his anguished visage.   
“I’m not sure, Catherine,” he blurted out to their mutual surprise, “it’s not just the obvious, the physical either … I’ve been fighting it, Catherine, but I feel a change inside, a change in who I am … until you showed up, I was beginning to think the part of me that was Jeffrey Sinclair was dead, that I’m only Valen now. It’s been as if there’s a hole in my mind where Sinclair used to be. When you talk to me, and it’s not just that I haven’t heard English in four years, I haven’t heard anyone talk to me in all that time … God, I’ve missed you ...”  
“What happened, Jeff? How did this all come about? Tell me everything.” 

Sinclair leaned back in his chair beside the bed, composing an explanation carefully in his mind. They heard the door opening, and he leapt up and whirled around, grabbing his denn’bok from his belt and extending it. Before he completely blocked her view, Catherine caught a glimpse of a Vorlon encounter suit. Sinclair’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he put away his weapon. 

“A decision … must be made,” the Vorlon intoned.  
“There hasn’t been any time, Kosh, she’s only just awakened!” Sinclair barked. Catherine was taken aback by his tone -- she’d never heard anyone address a Vorlon that way before. Kosh bowed slightly and then the music rose again.  
“Hurry.” The door reopened and Kosh glided back out. Sakai struggled to sit up in the bed as Sinclair turned back toward her.  
“What decision? What’s going on?” Sinclair looked away sharply, addressed his next words to the darkness surrounding them.  
“Oh Catherine, I wish to God I could change the situation. I wish to God, I wish for you, that I’d never changed our stabilizers, I….” Hesitantly, she reached a hand out to touch his arm. He looked back at her, watching him with love and anticipation, and sat down heavily on the bed beside her. He felt for her hand cautiously, as if he expected she would be so repulsed by his physical transformation that she wouldn’t want him to touch her. “On Earth, it’s around 1262, the Heian period – the first Shogunate -- I can’t take you back there … I can’t do that, I just can’t.” He caught his head in his hand, and Sakai couldn’t help but stare at his strange profile. There wasn’t much of Jeffrey Sinclair she could see in it – just his lips and chin and the bottom third of his nose, but she could still see him there. “On Minbar, Minbar won’t make contact with our race, your race, until 2245, the War … Dear God, Catherine, how I’ve struggled here – and look at me,” Sinclair gestured toward his head, “and look at you. Catherine, if you stayed, you’d never see another Human being again for the rest of your life! And these Minbari are not the tightly repressed, highly controlled Minbari you and I knew; you'll probably have to hide in the house for your own safety. You’d have no independence at all, no friends, no career, nothing but me … all this time I’ve been going out of my mind, praying I’d find you, and now, now that you’re here, I see how selfish that desire has been. I can’t possibly ask you to stay with me, Catherine, it would never work.” his voice faded off again. “No, there’s really only one option that’s fair to you, Catherine. Kosh will take you back to Vorlon. He can’t take you forward to our time, your time, because it’s just too many centuries for a Human to travel again, with or without another stabilizer. But Kosh told me the Vorlons have the ability to put people in stasis for vast periods of time – even centuries. I believe we can trust him, Catherine,” Sinclair said, looking away again, “he says he can take you to his homeworld and promises to revive you at the right point. Come …” he rose abruptly, beginning to stalk to the door and pulling her along with him.  
“That is just so like you!” she said angrily, tearing her hand from his grip. “You’re always trying to make decisions for me, aren’t you? It doesn’t matter where we are or what the issue is, you’re always trying to …” Sinclair spun around, grabbed Sakai in his arms and crushed her against his chest.   
“You have no idea how long and hard I’ve prayed to hear you put me in my place,” he sobbed, and Catherine began to cry with him. “Oh God, Catherine, I love you so much, need you so badly,” he whispered into the top of her head as he kissed her hair. “But you have to go. I have to let you go.” Catherine looked up at him, found to her surprise that she was beginning to get used to his new appearance already – at least it didn’t render her speechless anymore.   
“What if I don’t want to go?” she heard herself say, and once she did so, she knew it was true. Inside he was still the Jeffrey Sinclair she woke up in bed beside that morning, the same man she’d planned to marry. If he was Valen too, then he was the only one who could win the first Shadow War. And it seemed from what he was saying that she was the only one who could keep enough of Sinclair present to enable him to succeed as Valen. “We finally got this relationship right and now you want me to sit in some Vorlon cryo unit for ten centuries? I love you, Jeff; I don’t want to go back without you.” She paused to wipe tears from her face. “I know what you’re getting at, Jeff, and at a different point in our relationship, you’d be right – I wouldn’t have been okay with giving up my freedom and staying. But that was before we made a commitment to one another -- you aren’t the only one who takes things like that seriously, you know. Besides, I’ve lived my life independently so far, and what has it gotten me? A survey ship, plenty of credits in my account, and no one to spend any of it on but myself. I’d rather be trapped here, alone with you now, fighting for a cause that matters than really alone in the 2260’s. If I go back, I’ll never see you again -- you’ll be dead and gone, and we’ll both have spent the rest of our days in solitude. I don’t think I could handle that. And as for the Minbari, hell, if you’re Valen now, can’t you just tell them to accept me? Don’t they worship you or something? Oh damn … I can see I shouldn’t have said that,” she apologized, as his face darkened into something tortured and unrecognizable.   
“You have no idea what you are trying to talk us into, Catherine. Please. Listen to me – you can’t stay.”

At that moment, the door reopened. Sinclair released her from his grasp, and tried to put some physical distance between them. Stubbornly, Sakai put her arm around his waist and moved in close. 

“She’s going,” Sinclair said to Kosh.  
“I’m staying,” Sakai insisted. The lens on Kosh’s encounter suit dialed open and closed, as if he were trying to sort this out. “Look,” she laughed through her tears; “we’ve managed to confound a Vorlon!” Jeff looked down at her from Valen’s face with that wry half-smile. “I’m staying,” she repeated, looking at Kosh. Kosh turned to Sinclair expectantly.  
“Catherine …” he begged, shaking his head from side to side. Sakai only hugged him tighter. “She’s staying.” Sinclair exhaled weakly, “She’s staying, Kosh.”  
“Good.” Kosh bowed to them slightly. “Remember who you are, Jeffrey Sinclair.” He turned, paused, and music again poured from his suit. “Her ship is not for this time. We will destroy it.” Kosh began to move through the door, but Sinclair called him back.  
“Kosh – I know the other Vorlons, Ulkesh especially, will be furious with you when you get back. We both know I can’t thank you enough, so, why, Kosh? Why give up so much of your own life, create such animosity just to bring me happiness?” The words Kosh spoke next were the most astonishing of all possible words.  
“We live for The One. We die for The One.” 

Kosh bowed again and withdrew, leaving the two remaining figures behind in electrified silence. Sinclair and Sakai turned and wrapped themselves in one another’s arms for nearly five minutes before they could bear to break apart and see the other’s face. 

“Catherine…” She looked back into his sad, dark eyes.  
“Shh. I’m a Ranger too, remember? I also live for The One …”  
“Please! Don’t say it, Catherine. Please.”  
“All right.” Sinclair was about to continue when she sealed her lips against his in a firm and certain kiss. “Your next words had better be ‘I love you,’” she instructed. Sinclair tried to smile, ended up grimacing.  
“I love you, Catherine,” he replied dutifully, “I just hope that’s really going to be enough for you, because there’s no turning back now. I don't know what the Minbari will do when they learn about your existence – no Minbari has ever married or, well, been with a non-Minbari ever. We’re going to have to keep your presence a secret until I can figure out a safe way to introduce you.” Catherine nodded reluctantly.  
“I guess I’ll have to defer to your intuition for a while here. And where is here, Jeff? Where are we?”  
“Babylon 4.”  
“What?”  
“As I began to tell you, there’s a lot for me to explain. For a year after your ship was pulled into the rift, I stayed on Minbar as Entil’Zha. Then I received a letter I’d left for myself in the Sanctuary. Well, it was a letter from Valen to Sinclair, if that makes any sense. It’s how I learned I was Valen. The Shadows sent ships with a powerful bomb to try to destroy Babylon 4 itself since they couldn't control the rift. They knew, before I did, that I would be taking the station back in time as a base of operations in the first Shadow War. Marcus Cole, Delenn, Susan Ivanova, Captain John Sheridan and I had to go back four years in time to stop them. But in doing so, Catherine, the effects of my original visit to Babylon 4, without a stabilizer, caught up with me. I aged terribly – there was no way for me to go forward again without dying. And that is how I ended up here, like this.” He swept his hand across his face and body. “It was the only thing I could do, Catherine, but the truth is that I welcomed it – I knew it was what I was born to do.” Catherine nodded her head in understanding. “So here we are, at the climax of the first Shadow War. The Minbari are the Shadows’ most technologically advanced enemy, which in this time period means they have just mastered interstellar flight, and not much more. It’s crazy, but as I waited for them to find me on Babylon 4, I realized that the reason the Minbari were so far ahead of Earth during our mutual war was because I’d brought back the tech from Babylon 4 to them! They beat us by using our own know-how! How’s that for irony?”   
“So Jeff, you could prevent the Earth-Minbari War?” Catherine said with some excitement. Sinclair shook his head sadly.  
“No, no, I can’t Catherine; don’t you understand? You met me right before the War, you know what I went through …”  
“Of course – that’s exactly why I’m asking …”  
“Catherine, if the Minbari hadn’t captured me during the War and exposed what they believed to be my ‘Minbari soul,’ I would never have had any of the further experiences that led me to this point. For that matter, would the Jeffrey Sinclair you knew before the War have turned out the same as the one who was willing to renounce everything – except you –“ he smiled, “and come here?”  
“No,” Catherine replied reluctantly, “no, you’d be a Fleet Admiral or something by now.”  
“And bringing a millennia of peace – isn’t that a far greater accomplishment? Instead of constantly preparing for War, I’m working to end it – for a thousand years! It’s worth it all, Catherine, it’s worth it all – except the part of it that kept me from you.” He took her face in his hands, studied her ardently.  
“I don’t mean to alarm you, Entil’Zha, but your head is changing colors.”  
“What?”  
“That blue pattern on top of your head? It’s getting darker.”  
“Oh jeez,” Sinclair exclaimed, clasping a hand atop his head to cover it, “that's really embarrassing.” Catherine watched him quizzically. “I’d rather not discuss it now.”  
“Oh really?” she teased him, glad to make him squirm and smile – it seemed to her that he hadn’t done that in a long time – how long did he say he’d waited? Four years? Sinclair rolled his eyes and sighed in resignation, just as he used to do.  
“Let’s just say that since you’ve decided to stay, you better learn to like certain parts of me in the color blue, or we’re both going to be very frustrated.” Catherine blinked a few times in puzzlement. “Very frustrated,” Sinclair repeated for emphasis.  
“Are you telling me …” He nodded back. “It’s blue? They’re blue?” Sinclair raised his brows and shrugged. “No, really?” Catherine burst out laughing, while he closed his eyes and shook his head in obvious chagrin.   
“Are you done having fun at my expense? Because we have a lot of serious issues we need to address here.” Catherine tried to sober up, but couldn’t stop giggling.  
“Really, Jeff – blue?” Despite himself, Sinclair chuckled lightly.  
“Yeah, well, you should be glad that’s the only thing that’s changed, because let me tell you – Minbari men are not exactly what we’d call ‘well-endowed.’ Maybe that’s why they seem to spend so much time comparing these,” he laughed, indicating his bone crest. “Catherine,” he said seriously, “please remember to tease me every now and then? It’s the kind of thing you’d never think you’d miss until you’ve spent four years being venerated.”  
“I’ll see what I can arrange,” she said, lifting herself up on her toes to kiss him. “So how does your head bone rate?”  
“What can I say – The Universe has blessed me as befits the future founder of The Grey Council and the original Entil’Zha. Now, getting back to business, I think it’ll be safer all-around on Minbar. I’ve got too many hundreds of warriors going in and out of this place – at least the house will be private. You know, I’ve finally gotten used to that damn bed?”  
“Ugh, I hate that bed.”  
“I wonder if I can come up with any way for Zathras to get a Human one smuggled back to the house now that you’re here.”  
“How long are we going to have to hide me, Jeff?”  
“I really don’t know, Catherine, but it will be a while – right now I’ve just gotten things into a holding pattern out in space, so Minbar is my focus. But I haven’t figured out how I go about creating The Grey Council, so I have no formal authority yet except over the Rangers.”  
“Can’t you just ‘follow the directions’ so to speak, from all the old texts about Valen we studied?”  
“I wish it were so simple – first of all, there were at least two completely different accounts of his – my – life, one from the Warrior Caste and the other from the Religious. Add to that the fact that neither one of them is terribly chronological, nor do they agree with each other. Basically, I know some of what I will do and accomplish, but I don’t know how. A lot of the time, things just seem to happen, even when I haven’t been planning on them.”  
“Like my showing up?”  
“No. Catherine, I truly believe God had something to do with that. With events as important as this one, there are no coincidences.”


	12. Just a Glimpse

\-- 11 –  
– JUST A GLIMPSE –

“I can't believe I let you talk me into this,” Sinclair complained, “it's too risky.”  
“I can't believe you thought you could take me aboard the mysterious, disappearing Babylon 4 and not give me some kind of tour before we leave,” Sakai retorted. “Besides, you know all these secret passages,” she said as she followed him through a fire door and down a narrow bulkhead. “What are the odds of us running into anyone else?”  
“I don't think you realize how resourceful – or how xenophobic – the Minbari are. Watch your step here. Like I said earlier, we can't let you be discovered yet. I'm not at all sure how we'll ever, okay, here you go,” Sinclair instructed, spinning a metal wheel to open a small porthole, “have a look.”  
“Oh wow!” exclaimed Sakai, looking through the opening to catch her first glimpse of the vast interior of the station. Buildings, crops and orchards ran seamlessly down as far as she could see, while hundreds of small figures moved about. As on Babylon 5 a central monorail system quartered the core, this one running an additional mile in length. “It's enormous! Makes B5 look puny!”  
“There's 20% more interior core space. It's needed just for oxygen generation alone.” Sinclair explained, briefly forgetting his inhibitions about their trip. “But so far I'm keeping the biggest secret about it to myself – this station has jump engines!” Sakai turned to him with an appropriate amount of surprise. “Some of the Minbari call this 'difurr alent' – roughly 'the magic asteroid.' And I suppose to them this level of technology is magic, being a thousand years ahead of its time. Even the details of the hydroponics system are revolutionary to them. So wait until I open a jumpgate on 'em.”   
“So why can't they accept that you're with an alien? You brought the magic; that should be enough.”  
“Maybe so, maybe so. But it's not. It's been a struggle just to get them to communicate with other races over battle plans. There's huge resistance when I bring alien representatives aboard the station, and the Council of Clan Elders flatly refused to let refugees set foot on Minbar. Right now I have a evacuee population of nearly 1,000 stuck on board the station because I have no place else to send them. The Minbari respect me, even venerate me, but on that point they shot me down cold.”   
“So what are you going to do about the refugees?”  
“I don't know yet.” He paused thoughtfully. “I've tried to explain to the Council what a strain a civilian population puts on B4 – space I need for the army, food I need for the army, medical supplies – you get the picture. But the Elders just don't. Or they choose not to, which is worse. One day the time is going to come when I'll need to move the station to the front lines and I can't do that with noncombatants aboard. They listen but they don't hear,” he sighed in frustration.  
“Is there a colony world you can evacuate them to?”  
“We're stretched to our limits off world too. You know, Catherine, it's really good to finally have someone to talk to about all this – not that just anyone would do,” he added hurriedly, before she could take offense. “Thank you for staying.” He squeezed her hand.  
“You're welcome,” she said, squeezing back. “So what's next on this backstage tour?”  
“The docking bay – and an Earth Force shuttle. I really can't risk you being seen.”  
“Spoil sport. But I get the message, loud and clear. The last thing I want to do is become one of your problems.”  
“Let me send for Zathras and have him get you some Minbari clothes so we can sneak you down to the docking bay and then onto Minbar. Ever helped pilot an Earth Force shuttle?”  
“Not for ages, but it can't be much different than the Sky Dancer. So who is this Zathras you’re sending for?” Sinclair rolled his eyes.  
“How can I possibly describe Zathras? Meeting him may make up for the abbreviated tour.”  
“He's that interesting?”  
“Interesting. That's one word for him,” Sinclair laughed. “He came back in time from Epsilon 3 with me. Quite a character, although he always knows more than you’d think. He’s the only one I’ve trusted here … until now, of course. Now that I’m thinking about it, I should have him move some more food from here to the house on Minbar – if you thought the diet there was dull in 2259 …” Sinclair shook his head in dismay. “I’ve already stockpiled all the Tabasco sauce and coffee beans that were onboard the station!”  
“Well, you’d better have this fellow get me some shampoo too, because from the look of things, I’d bet the Minbari haven’t bothered to invent that. Of all the men I’ve dated, Jeff, you were the last one I’d have figured would go bald!”  
“You’re dealing with all of this awfully well,” he said sincerely.  
“It all feels like a dream right now – give me a few days and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of tears.”  
“I hope not, Catherine. Look, obviously, I’ve got an even bigger job, greater responsibilities than I could ever have imagined. But I swear to you Catherine, I swear that in this lifetime, things will be different.”  
“’In Valen’s Name?’” she smiled, hugging him and letting him run his hands through her hair. But Catherine knew she’d met the challenge of her life in agreeing to be a prophet’s wife. A hell of a job. Good thing she’d always liked a challenge.  
“Yeah, ‘In Valen’s Name.’”


	13. Moving On

– 12 --  
\-- MOVING ON --

Sakai wasn’t sure what to make of Zathras, whom she and Sinclair left behind to finish some errands on Babylon 4, but then she was still trying to process what had happened to her – and, of course, to Sinclair. Although he spoke to Zathras in English, Catherine didn’t really catch much of what Jeff said. She was far too busy trying to determine if she really did hear the slightest hint of an accent in his voice as he spoke, or if it was just her imagination. Well, that and the fact that he certainly looked like he should speak with one. She simply couldn’t take her eyes off of his head. She had just seen him a few hours before, hadn’t she? Hadn’t they just suited up, discussed their plans with Marcus and parted with a kiss before taking off after the Shadows? Yes, hours, not years -- certainly not centuries! How could it really be otherwise? And when they had, hadn’t she seen him pull his helmet on over his thick black hair, his heavy eyebrows, over the familiar diagonal dent in the bridge of his nose, where he’d broken it putting down the food riots on Mars? She knew that face better than she did her own, having spent so much time staring at it over the years. So whose face was this one she was looking at now?

“Valen to C&C: requesting clearance to depart docking bay 3,” he asked in one of the Minbari tongues, with a quick glance over at Sakai, as he finished a routine check of the systems onboard the wedge-shaped shuttle they were strapped into. Sakai wondered about so many things that she could hardly maintain her concentration on any of them. It was so much easier if she just closed her eyes and listened to the sound, if not the words, of his sonorous voice. “Catherine? Catherine, are you listening to me?”  
“Oh! Sorry, Jeff, I …” she shook her head and opened her eyes to look back at the second set of controls in front of her. “Engines on line. Confirmation from C&C received – we’re clear to launch.”  
“Let’s do it then,” he said, smiling, as he pushed forward on the joystick to set them in motion toward the nearest jumpgate. 

Sakai studied the charts and was startled to discover that the gate seemed to be the in the same place as the one Babylon 5 used. She knew, of course, that the jumpgates were thousands of years old, but seeing it there, where it belonged, only heightened the strangeness of what had changed. And that thought brought her back around to where she had begun – with Sinclair. She turned to look at him again and caught him glancing back. He smiled softly and spun the ship around in an utterly unnecessary loop-the-loop before they hit the gate. Sakai laughed aloud and relaxed in her seat. He might not look the same, she thought, but the man beside her was definitely Jeffrey Sinclair. As the pulsing red glow of hyperspace surrounded their ship, she spoke.

“Are you still trying to impress me, Jeff, or are you just that crazy about space flight, even after all these years?”  
“Give me a while to make up my mind on the answer to that one, okay?” Sinclair smiled. “Activate homing beacons.”  
“Activating.”  
“Course laid in?”  
“Laid in.”  
“Well,” he said, turning his seat to face her. “About a day and we’ll be home. To Minbar, I mean.” His smile faded and there was an awkward silence between them as they searched each other’s faces. Sakai reached over and put her hand on top of his, prompting Sinclair to smile again, if faintly. “Catherine, I …”  
“It’s okay, Jeff – you don’t have to say anything. Just let me look at you for a while – get used to the idea that this is you now. If you don’t mind me staring ….” Sinclair shook his head slowly, never moving his own eyes from her face.  
“Not if you don’t mind my gawking back.” 

They sat in silence for a long time, the hot glare of hyperspace dancing across them through the ship’s windows. As the hours passed, neither of them spoke much; Sinclair because he was deliriously happy just to have Sakai beside him again, Sakai because she had too much to analyze and to try to comprehend. Eventually, they each took turns sleeping, waiting out the long journey in the most useful way possible. It was many, many hours before they were awake simultaneously and ready to share any significant words.

“So how, how did this happen, Jeff? Was it some kind of operation, or … I mean, how did you end up looking like a Minbari?” Catherine began innocently. Sinclair looked into her questioning eyes gravely and blinked several times in recollection.


	14. The Chrysalis

\-- 13 --  
\-- THE CHYRSALIS --

Calmly, purposefully, and in accordance with Zathras’ detailed instructions, Sinclair finished constructing the Chrysalis Machine. It had been so hard to say goodbye – to Marcus, to Susan, and especially to Delenn. It was even worse being unable to speak directly with Michael, but he knew his friend too well. If Sheridan hadn’t reluctantly agreed to keep Garibaldi in the dark, Michael would be with Sinclair now, joining him in permanent exile in the distant past. But Sinclair knew that wasn’t Garibaldi’s rightful destiny, so painfully he'd left without a goodbye. He wondered if Garibaldi would ever forgive him for that. 

Once the farewells were over and the others had left Sector 14, Sinclair had found himself almost aching to get the rest of it over with, to do what he had to do, and move on. Now, however, now that he stood before the completed device, the finality of it all struck him again. He was loath to admit it, even to himself, but he was a little bit afraid. It was funny, he thought, that Marcus hadn’t realized that his intent wasn’t so much to keep the rest of them moving so that they wouldn’t pause to reflect – it had been easier for him to function that way. Easier to leave Rathenn with routine instructions for the Rangers than to thank him for his friendship and say farewell. Easier to leave it for Delenn to explain, after the fact, what he was really planning to do, than to tell Susan or Michael or Marcus himself. But now, now there were no excuses, no distractions. Now, it was time.

“Yes, yes. Just as Zathras say. Is ready now,” Zathras remarked as he studied the colorful structure on the table between them. Sinclair’s lone companion nodded and rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he reached for the final box. “Zathras finish for The One?” Sinclair was stirred from his reveries, turned smoothly and smiled, albeit somewhat feebly, at his assistant.  
“No, some things one must do alone, Zathras. Go on – there’s plenty for you to do before the Vorlons and Minbari arrive. I’ll call for you if I need you.” Zathras nodded and took a few shuffling steps toward the door.  
“Zathras tell The One what to expect?”  
“I’d rather you didn’t.” Sinclair had lived on Minbar for two years – he knew exactly what anatomical changes lay ahead, and those were the absolute last things he wanted to be reminded of now. Zathras raised a hand and opened his mouth to speak, but Sinclair stopped him with a glance. “I’ll be fine, Zathras, thank you.” Reluctantly, Sinclair’s furry companion turned and left the room, muttering and clicking to himself. Sinclair shook his head, took a deep breath, and turned to face the Machine.

He picked up that last, small box and opened it; found he couldn’t help but shiver slightly as he saw the Triluminary again. Would the day ever come when he’d be relieved to see that device, instead of fearful? Would it ever conjure up an image besides the one he saw now – the sight of it in Delenn’s hand as she stood shrouded in grey, while he hung helpless and bloody before her at The Line?

No, that wasn’t what he wanted to be thinking about either. Sinclair set the Triluminary back down on the table and withdrew a small computer notebook from his robe. He turned it on and immediately brought up a photograph he had stored within. He had kept it close at hand everywhere he’d traveled to in the previous eight months. Not a day passed that he didn’t take the time to look at it and remember. But where he was going now…  
“Catherine,” he whispered, sinking into a chair. At the sight of her, tears welled up in his eyes, and a crushing pain squeezed his chest. God, he missed her. All right, I’m renouncing everything else, he thought; saying goodbye to it all. I’m needed, I’ve been called, I will go and embrace this destiny. But please, please, dear God let me find Catherine back there. He swallowed hard, stared long and intently at her image; burned it into his mind. Finally, he pulled his eyes from her face and without risking another downward glance, blanked out the computer screen and hit the delete key. He couldn’t risk having some curious Minbari finding her picture. There. He really had let everything go. Sinclair took another deep breath, tossed the notebook to the floor and moved to take off his boots. He hesitated. There was one farewell he had yet to make. He owed it to himself to do it.

Sinclair strode over to the bathroom, turned on the light, and studied his face in the mirror. Dispassionately, without remorse, he noted how badly his time travels had aged him. His skin had lost its elasticity, and his face was gaunt. Absently, he ran a hand through his wavy hair – once thick and nearly black in hue, it was now almost entirely white. Oh well, he thought with genuine amusement, I guess that’ll make it less of a loss. He smiled a half-smile at himself, searched the contours of his face for further signs of fear or doubt, but was pleased to find none remained. Now I’m ready. “’Tis not too late to seek a newer world,” he thought, and then addressed himself seriously;   
“Goodbye, Jeff.” He turned off the light and walked back to the stateroom, lifted the Triluminary from the table. “No doubts. The path is clear,” he reminded himself aloud. Cautiously, he slipped the Triluminary into the top of the Machine. 

A burst of light ran down the structure like a wave. Almost simultaneously, a narrow beam of light shot out and struck the far wall, and floating along the illumination like seaweed on an oceanic surface, golden wisps of some alien material began to build up against the bulkhead. Sinclair sat back down and began to undress.

Images from the last few momentous years ran through his mind. He recalled the words of the Soul Hunter, who had warned; “they’re using you!” Delenn, later that day, half-dead but still so beautiful, had offered her own enigmatic remark; “we were right about you.” And before that, there had been Kosh’s would-be assassin’s taunt; “there is a hole in your mind.” That had been his first clue, hadn’t it? Why had it taken him so long to put it all together? The next Minbari Sinclair envisioned before him was Neroon, who had mocked Sinclair as he drank the poison during the ritual that named him Entil'Zha. As bitter as that draught had been, it was more bitter still for Neroon to see a Human, a member of the race he most despised, following in Valen’s footsteps. And yet once, years before, the two had shared a brief laugh; “perhaps there was some wisdom after all, in allowing your species to survive,” Neroon had said. By God, if Neroon had even an inkling as to whom he was addressing that concession … he probably would have fallen on his sword then and there! But of course he would never know. None of them ever would, besides Delenn and Lennier. Sinclair knew she’d make it clear to Marcus and the rest that the secret of Valen’s true identity could never be shared with anyone. 

Who could have foreseen that the answer to those mysteries lay here, aboard the fourth of the Babylon Stations, the ship of the Flying Dutchman? Who could have imagined, presumed to imagine, that when thirty generations of Minbari invoked the name of their world’s most revered prophet, they were unwittingly referring to him, Jeffrey David Sinclair, a Human?

Sinclair removed the last of his clothes and looked up to see that the Chrysalis Machine had already spun a deep nest of shimmering yellow fibers. It was ready for him, ready to do whatever it was going to do in order to transform him. He felt his balls contract at the thought, which was, he had to admit, rather ironic. From the moment he had read his letter to himself and learned of his fate, Sinclair had concluded that if he didn’t laugh at himself, at his fears, he would never survive. He took a deep breath and sat down in the bed of strange, damp, glowing threads, then closed his eyes.

To his dismay, the experience was almost immediately painful. He had expected the process to hurt, but hadn’t anticipated it would be so bad, so soon. It was just as well he had never asked Delenn what it had been like. The cocoon that was building up rapidly around him was sharp, sticky and suffocating. The fibers pinned his arms to his sides, froze his folded legs in place, plastered his hair against his head and neck and even seemed to fill his ears. Instinctively, he gasped for air. It was increasingly hot and disgustingly humid inside the shell as it closed around him. Sinclair concentrated desperately on recreating the image of Catherine in his mind, used it to distract himself from the overwhelming urge to struggle free of the Chrysalis while he still had the chance. 

He remembered the details of her laugh and her lips, her expressive eyes and the smell of her skin; drew a mental picture of her that was so vivid he could almost believe that she was sitting beside him, holding his hand. The heat and discomfort of the capsule withered under a wave of desire so powerful, so ferocious, that it became a pain and a punishment of its own. But it was a different kind of pain – an emotional pain, the anguish of his lonely heart, and in the last year that misery had grown so familiar that Sinclair experienced it almost as pleasure. When he gasped again, it was from longing, as he conjured up the soft curve of Catherine’s breasts and the pattern of her breathing when she slept in his arms. These thoughts sustained him even as they tormented him; enabled him to maintain his sanity in the face of the maddening realization that the change had already begun. Finally, surrounded by Catherine’s imaginary arms, pinned between her hallucinatory thighs, his mind grew blessedly foggy, and Sinclair passed out.

When he awoke, days later, it was to the worst physical pain he’d ever experienced. The Chrysalis that encased him was dark and stifling hot, having turned to plaster, and frantically, uncoordinatedly, he fought to free his hands. He tore desperately at the pasty wall around him, yet it took an hour for him to break the carapace open even a crack. Eventually, after many more hours of painful struggle, he tumbled out, head first, into the cool, soothing light of the stateroom, but to little relief. He could breathe more easily, but he couldn’t focus his eyes or process any sounds, and he felt as though his body was turning itself inside out. Vaguely, he sensed Zathras racing over to assist him. The other man thew a soft robe over his fragile body and guided him to bed. There Sinclair curled up in a ball and drifted off again.

Once more, he opened his eyes, this time with a clearer head. He lifted a trembling hand and saw that it was covered with a thick, crackled, bluish-black substance. Sinclair flexed his fingers ever so slightly, and small pieces of the coating tore away from his hand. In horror, his hands flew to his head, and his ears disintegrated into ashy dust at his touch. From that moment on, all that existed for him was the extraordinary, howling pain, hours and hours of it, lessened not at all by the opiates Zathras administered to him. Nothing relieved Sinclair’s nausea as he endured the skin and hair breaking away from his body: not the medication, not Zathras’ babbling torrent of comforting words, not even the discovery that he hadn’t been castrated as he’d expected. The pain was so tremendous he was hardly consoled, not even by learning that those parts of his body most profoundly and intimately Human remained unchanged.

Sinclair winced in recollection, then opened his eyes to see Catherine sitting beside him in the shuttle, her face bright with evident love and concern.

“No, it, it wasn’t an operation, Cath, and I don’t just look Minbari now, I am Minbari…” he shuddered. “There was a device, an alien machine – the one Delenn used to become part Human … but it’s not worth recounting. Maybe some other time.” He knew he was lying; knew he would never speak of the experience, that he would never burden Catherine with even the smallest, vaguest image relating to the horror of it all. He loved her too much to tell her. Sensing something deep and ugly behind his evasion, Sakai decided not to push for a fuller explanation.  
“So I, I guess I was declared dead, huh?” Sakai asked, as lightly as she could, moving to another topic. Sinclair nodded sadly.  
“I knew better, or wanted to believe I did, but … The worst part was telling your aunt – I did that myself. There was no way I was going to let her hear about it from someone else. The Rangers will look after her – you needn’t worry about that. I never thought about this before, but I suppose Delenn and Ivanova had to do the same with me. I wonder how they explained the absence of my body?” He paused, then answered the question himself. “Maybe they didn’t have to -- there’s a lot of brass back at Earth Force and Earth Gov that were probably thrilled to hear they wouldn’t have to contend with me ever again. I realize that it doesn’t matter, but I spent a long time being Jeffrey Sinclair and it hurts to think how Clark’s government will distort everything I ever did. I wish Sinclair had gotten half the respect Valen does.” Sakai studied his new face, perplexed at how neatly he had already compartmentalized his two incarnations.   
“What’s it been like, Jeff? Being you but … well, being someone else?” she asked. Sinclair exhaled with tremendous and visible relief.   
“My God, Catherine, you’ve no idea how glad I am to have someone – to have you – know enough about me to even ask that question! It’s so strange to look at yourself in the mirror and see someone else’s face looking back. I mean, not only does no one else see me for who I am … until you got here, until Kosh told me you’d be arriving….” Sinclair’s voice trembled slightly as he spoke. Regaining composure, he looked down at his hands, turned them over, and then lifted his eyes to Sakai’s face. “I, I didn’t know the answer myself. I felt so lost.” He paused again before attempting to explain. “It's as if you’re wearing a body that belongs to someone else; it doesn’t feel like it’s really your own. Even the parts of me that haven’t visibly changed have changed. The Minbari are just … different. Stronger, a lot stronger than I guess I’d imagined. I had no idea how impressive a feat it was for me to have knocked Neroon on his ass until I was inside a Minbari body myself.” Sinclair smiled wryly in recollection. “Anyway, that’s hardly the only dissimilarity. Cold things, really cold things don’t feel as cold; you get hot, but you never perspire. Foods taste different somehow. Not better, not worse, just … different.” He lowered his eyes again. “These look like my hands, but they’re not my hands.” Sakai leaned forward in interest, with surprise of her own – when she’d asked the question, she’d been referring to his emotions – to how he felt about being regarded as a man named Valen. She’d had no idea he that he had been as disoriented by his altered physique as she was; no idea that the transformation he had undergone had affected his five senses. “My sense of touch -- it’s like it’s been magnified. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but Minbari don’t make a whole lot of physical contact with each other in social situations. Instead of shaking hands, they sort of salute each other from the heart. They’ll walk arm-in-arm but not hand-in-hand. If you just reached out and touched a Minbari on the shoulder, without them expecting it -- well, I can’t say exactly what kind of a reaction you’d get – but you’d certainly get something! A lot of what I think I always assumed was some kind of reticence on the part of the Minbari actually stems from a polite awareness of that sensitivity. Even the texture of things seems to incite some, some,” he gestured in futility, “something. For example, I think I would go crazy if I were to put on my old Earth Force uniform -- just the idea now of wearing clothes made from that kind of fabric, and cut so close…” He shuddered slightly. “It’s too…” he searched for words. “Arousing? Not necessarily sexually,” he clarified hurriedly, “but just somehow….” Sinclair’s voice faded off and he shook his head with a bewildered smile. “You’d think after three years I’d have words for it, but I don’t. But if I hold your hand…” He reached for her, closed his eyes, still thinking; his musing interrupted by the sound of Sakai giggling loudly. “What?” he asked, blinking, and then realized her gaze was fixed firmly upon the top of his head. “Oh … that,” he said, releasing her from his grasp and covering his scalp with fresh self-consciousness. “Yeah, there's that too.” He grinned a little in embarrassment. “Okay, so holding your hand isn’t a good example, but, I mean, I haven’t seen you, haven’t touched you in four years. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.” A broad and heart-felt smile stole across his face. “Good God, Cath, I’m just so happy to have you with me now!” She smiled back and they fell into silence again until Sakai came up with the words to another question.   
“What happened with our mission after we were separated? What happened to Marcus – I gather he made it back okay?” Sinclair nodded.  
“Marcus was fine.” He thought for a moment, casting his mind back across nine hundred years. “Marcus was the only one who tried to approach me as just a person afterwards – man-to-man. With everyone else, well, it wasn’t all that different stepping into Valen’s shoes then as it is being Valen now. ‘I am become a name,’” he quoted bitterly, and Sakai recalled how she had once teased him about the symbolism in “Ulysses;” that poem he never seemed to stop thinking about; asking him if he were “an idle king” or “a grey spirit.” Now she saw he was truly both. What was it he had replied at the time: “we find meaning where we can?”   
“Talking to Marcus really helped.” Sinclair rested his chin against his fist and reflected for a moment. “He’s a good man, a good Ranger. I hope the future works out for him, that he finds what he’s looking for. The Minbari have a phrase – Delenn used it to refer to me once – ‘a True Seeker.’ Marcus is a True Seeker. I think he’s looking for a purpose in life just the way I was. But I think he’s looking a little too hard – there’s a touch of fanaticism in him that worries me.” He shifted his gaze away from Sakai’s face to stare blankly out into hyperspace, still finding the mere sight of her distracting. “He offered to take my place here – once he realized someone had to ride B4 back into the past, he was ready to jump right in, without a second thought.” He looked back at Sakai. “But of course that wasn’t an option. I came because I had to come, because I was supposed to come, because I’d done it before and will do it again.” Sakai caught a trace of something less than certainty in his voice, however.  
“Well I’m glad you did,” she said brightly, “I wouldn’t have been too pleased if it were Marcus waiting here for me instead of you – Marcus is a nice guy, but he’s hardly my type.”  
“Hmm,” Sinclair replied a bit too thoughtfully, “somehow I doubt that I’m really your type anymore either …” Pointedly, he ran a hand across the bone on the back of his head. Sakai was about to reassure him when the voice of the shuttle’s computer interrupted them.  
“Proximity alert,” it said in the language of the Minbari Warrior Caste. “Jump point opening.”  
“What?” demanded Sinclair, whirling about in his seat to face the controls. “We’re nowhere close to our …” There was the flash of a ship-generated jump point opening and then something joined them in hyperspace.  
“What is that?” Sakai exclaimed, looking out the window.  
“My God! I have no idea …” Sinclair pronounced.  
“Unknown,” replied the computer.


	15. A Chance Encounter

\-- 14 --  
\-- A CHANCE ENCOUNTER --

Before them was an alien vessel of a completely unfamiliar configuration. Vaguely insect-like, the ship was the most misshapen, purely ugly thing Sakai had ever seen, and had she asked Sinclair for his opinion, he would have wholeheartedly agreed. It was of medium-size for a cruiser and asymmetrical in design. The surface was a warty, mottled blue, and the main section tapered off into a bulbous, purple segment reminiscent of a mosquito’s abdomen after a blood meal. Several slender proboscises that pointed both forward and to the rear jutted from the main body of the ship. The larger of them, on the starboard side, reminded Sakai of a lobster’s claw. Its most disturbing feature, however, dominated the front of the main section. It was a docking bay of some kind, oval in shape, that gaped open like a huge, red wound.

“Computer – analyze – match vessel against known silhouettes? Catherine -- cut all the engines, kill our transponder,” Sinclair ordered, working frantically to obtain all of the information he could from the active sensor systems before shutting them down as well.  
“Subject does not correspond to any silhouettes on file.”  
“Engines off line! Transponder off!”  
“Good, good. Computer – dim all internal lights. I want to be as inconspicuous as possible,” he explained to Sakai. “Hopefully we’re small enough and far away enough that they won’t detect us.” He turned slightly toward her as he spoke. “This is nothing I've ever seen – not back in the Twenty-Third Century, and not in current Warrior Caste files. Normally, I’d be excited about a possible First Contact situation, but this just doesn’t feel right.”  
“They seem to be sitting out there; as if they’re waiting for something,” Catherine observed, “but waiting for what or whom?”  
“That!” Sinclair exclaimed, as an area of hyperspace appeared to shimmer and bend. An enormous black Shadow ship entered hyperspace beside the unknown vessel. Catherine Sakai gasped in surprise and Sinclair pointed to the shuttle’s console.  
“According to our passive sensors, they’re transmitting information of some kind back and forth.”  
“The Shadow ship – it’s the same as those in the future?”  
“If I do my job here correctly, I’ll be driving them into hibernation for all the time in between – they won’t have the opportunity to advance further. It seems we’ve just discovered another race that serves the Shadows. This complicates things considerably.”  
“The Shadows are leaving already,” Sakai observed as the Shadow ship began to vibrate and fade, “that was fast!”  
“In and out – that’s been their tactic throughout the Great War so far. Now, where their new friends are going to go next -- that’s what I want to find out! They’re starting to move – I’m going to give them a little distance and then fire up the engines and follow.”  
“But Jeff, we’re alone out here in a lightly armored shuttle – if something goes wrong ….”  
“Noted,” he dismissed. But I can’t let this opportunity pass by, Catherine,” Sinclair explained without hesitation. She realized at once that it would be futile to argue with him in his Entil'Zha mode. “I’m taking the shuttle off autopilot -- I’ll fly us manually, which should give us a better chance to evade them if they take notice – between that, our small size, and the nature of hyperspace, the odds of their detecting us will be pretty small. Start the external recorders and prepare to jettison them if we get into trouble.”  
“You know that this is crazy, don’t you?”  
“Firing rear thrusters – half power.” Sakai swallowed hard and waited nervously. She was relieved when the alien ship continued on its trajectory. “Extrapolate destination from current heading?” Sinclair inquired.  
“It looks like they’re headed to the same place we were – the jumpgate near Minbar.”  
“They produced their own jump point before -- they must be trying to conserve energy.”  
“They’re speeding up.”  
“I see that – thrusters to maximum burn.” Slowly, the other ship began to turn toward them. “Damn. I’m continuing on to the jumpgate.”  
“That’s going to close the distance between us!”  
“I know that, but they’re coming about slowly. I’ll bet they won’t be able to respond once we get in really close. Hang on – taking evasive action!” 

Sinclair aimed the shuttle towards the jumpgate, at the same time tumbling it around and around in a wide corkscrew, making it more difficult for their less maneuverable opponent to lock on to them.   
“Decelerating!” Sinclair abruptly aimed the shuttle up, along what in geometric terms was the z-axis. The g-forces flattened them both against their seats, and Sinclair grimaced hard, tensing different muscle groups in turn to keep from blacking out. Sakai began to do the same, but she was out of practice. Prior to her three months of Ranger training on Minbar, she hadn’t flown in a combat situation in over twelve years.  
“Energy surge,” Sakai heard herself reporting, as blackness crept into the corners of her vision. Within moments, her narrowing visual tunnel collapsed, and she lost consciousness. 

The enemy ship fired a narrow, blue, beam weapon at them, but missed. Still heading in the general direction of the jumpgate, Sinclair took the shuttle into a steep dive, and again evaded the gunfire. Although the shuttle wasn’t as agile as the Starfuries he was accustomed to flying, the large alien ship was much, much slower, and their plasma gun appeared to be highly inaccurate. 

With the jumpgate a few seconds away, Sinclair decided he could outrun the enemy. He oriented the shuttle straight for the gate, nosing slightly down and aiming the main engines along the same trajectory. Reaching around Sakai, who was again conscious but was still struggling to regain the use of her limbs, he vectored the anterior thrusters up along a corresponding angle, and fired them. For a moment, they had the extra boost he planned on, and the shuttle moved close enough to the gate for it to cycle open. Unexpectedly, however, a wide, pinkish beam, emitted from the red opening on the front of the alien vessel, caught the shuttle and began dragging it backwards.

“Damn it to hell! They’ve got a tractor beam!” he shouted, trying to shake them free.  
“It’s hopeless, Jeff – you’re going to stress the shuttle apart! I’m cutting the engines!” Sakai cried. Sinclair nodded, released the controls and began to sit back in defeat.  
“Wait!” he exclaimed suddenly, lurching forward again, “keep us here – I’m sending our black box through the open gate! And turn our transponder back on!”  
“Structural integrity failing! The ship can’t take this much torsion!”  
“All right, all right – it’s away!” Sakai turned off the engines as Sinclair crumpled into his seat in despair. “Damn it, Catherine, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken so many chances with you onboard. What are you doing?” he questioned, as Sakai unbuckled her harness and swam to the back of the shuttle.  
“Getting us some space suits – we’re not dead yet, and there’s no way of knowing what kind of atmosphere is inside that ship.” Sinclair smiled ruefully and went to join her.  
“Here – take my PPG. I’ll see if I can create a diversion so that you can try to take back off. Head for the gate and hail the Minbari – be sure you tell them you were with Valen. Maybe, given the circumstances, they won’t completely freak out upon seeing you.” Sakai had no opportunity to reply, for at that moment, the red glow of hyperspace was replaced by the red glow of the alien ship’s docking bay. They wrestled on their helmets and Sinclair extended his Minbari fighting pike in anticipation. 

Through the shuttle’s windows, they could see the length and breadth of the bay. An array of alien ships, each of a different design, filled the chamber. It was immediately apparent to the both of them that several different races had constructed these ships, and from the scarring and plasma fire damage visible on most of them, it was also clear the other vessels weren’t there voluntarily. 

“That’s an Ashu ship!” Sinclair announced, his voice muffled by his helmet, until he remembered to turn on his intercom. “The Minbari used to trade with them – but we haven’t heard from their world in six months or so. I don’t recognize any of the others, do you?” Sakai shook her head “no.” 

There was a deep grinding noise as a door fell closed behind their ship, which lurched forward, still held by the aliens’ tractor beam. It wasn’t until they were at the rear of the bay that their unknown captors turned on their artificial gravity. The shuttle was dropped unceremoniously on its undercarriage, with the wheels still retracted into their wells, and caught unawares, the two were thrown to the floor of the shuttle, startled but uninjured. They scrambled to take position on either side of the shuttle door. The door opened and Sakai took quick aim and brought down one alien with two shots from the PPG while Valen felled the other with a fierce blow to the head.

Sakai and Sinclair regarded the dead aliens with uncertainty. It had been almost too easy to kill them. It seemed their ship was far more imposing than the aliens were themselves. The two studied their fallen opponents. Most notable were their huge, white heads, dominated by a pair of enormous black eyes. Neither body was attired in a space suit or breather unit, suggesting that some kind of atmosphere had been pumped into the sealed bay, but Sakai and Sinclair made no move to take off their own suits. 

“We need to get those bay doors back open!” Sakai yelled through her helmet. Sinclair reached over and turned on the intercom system on her space suit.  
“I want to know what happened to the pilots of those other ships,” he growled.  
“Jeff ….” she warned.  
“Ten minutes,” he insisted, “give me ten minutes.” Sakai looked back at the bodies. “I haven’t lost a fight in four years,” Sinclair assured her.   
“All right – but I’m coming with you.” Reluctantly, Sinclair nodded in assent, and searched the body at his feet, which was now oozing a clear fluid they assumed was blood. He came up with a gun that had a large canister attached to it, displayed it to Sakai, and collapsed his denn’bok. 

Warily, Sinclair stepped out of the shuttle, looked about, and then waved to Sakai to follow. They approached a round door, which rolled open as they drew near, and assumed positions on either side of it. As the first of their opponents moved through the opening, Sinclair fired off the weapon he’d taken from the original pair and was pleased with the results – a cloud of gas enveloped his targets, and while it did not penetrate the Earth Force issue suits he and Sakai wore, the aliens, not similarly attired, tumbled down in a heap. 

“It’s rare to find a weapon that doesn’t work against the people who designed it,” he explained, turning back to Sakai. “I don’t know if I’ve killed them or not, so you’ll have to stay here and guard this door.” Sakai looked down at the bodies in the doorway, and when she raised her eyes again, Sinclair was gone.  
“Damn it, Sinclair!” she cursed, but she was secretly impressed by his stealth. “Where are you? What do you see?”  
“I’m in a corridor … the walls are strange – blue-green, irregular, almost papery. Feels like I’m inside a wasp nest. No sign of anyone yet. Wait …” Sakai held her breath as she listened, then remembered that alertness on her part was of equal importance. Glancing around, she grabbed hold of each of the aliens lying at her feet and dragged them one at a time into the docking bay, clearing the path for Sinclair’s return trip. Jeff’s voice filled her helmet again. “Okay. No problem. Got past two more of them. There’s a door to my left. I’m going in.” There was a long pause. “Oh my God!” Sinclair exclaimed, and the ship vibrated with sudden movement, throwing Sakai against the jamb of the circular doorway.  
“Jeff? Jeff? What is it?” Sakai called out, as a discordant klaxon brayed. There was another jolt, and she realized what was happening. “Jeff, I think it’s the Minbari! Are you all right? Jeff?”  
“Yes, yes,” he replied, sounding almost confused, “I’m on my way – get back into the shuttle!”  
“What about you …” she hesitated.  
“Just go!” The floor beneath her shuddered again and Sakai ran to their ship, waiting just inside, desperate for the sight of Sinclair. Within moments he was beside her, threw himself into his seat, strapped himself in, pulled off his helmet, and began firing up the anterior thrusters. Sakai locked down the shuttle door and ran to her own seat.   
“What are you doing – the bay doors are still closed….”  
“Try to send a signal to the Minbari – tell them Valen orders they cease fire! I don’t know if they can receive a message through the walls of this thing, but it's worth a shot.”  
“What did you see?” Sinclair shook his head, too deeply engrossed in his task to speak. Sakai began to work at the communications system, and then it dawned on her that Sinclair was flying them inside the docking bay and she froze in terror. Her astonishment was compounded as he hovered the ship in the center of the room, then backed toward the bay doors until the metal began to glow from the heat of their rear thrusters.  
“What are you doing?”  
“Maybe we can cut our way out – can you hold us here; counter the movements of the rear thrusters as I maneuver them?” he asked and she blinked, then grabbed her joystick.  
“I’ll try.”  
“Good. One task too many,” Sinclair explained, turning his full attention to burning an opening through the ship by using the engines’ exhaust like a hot knife. Later, much later, Sakai would remark that doing either job was ‘one task too many.’ Sinclair’s response would be to smile, lean over, and conspiratorially whisper “don’t tell Valen that,” but at that moment, she was far too thoroughly occupied in trying to keep their shuttle in one place relative to the moving ship. Meanwhile, Sinclair’s efforts with the ship’s rear thrusters had already revealed a glimmer of the star field outside the cruiser.  
“Valen to Minbari fleet. Cease-fire! Cease-fire!”  
“We receive you, Entil'Zha! Where are you? Unknown vessel has opened a jump point!”  
“That leaves no time to land!” Sinclair cursed to himself and Sakai. “I’m in the alien vessel! Follow it!” he demanded, retaking control of the ship from Sakai. “Hold on – I’ve never done this before!”  
“No kidding!” 

For a moment it felt as if time had stopped, and all Sakai could hear was the blood racing in her ears; all she could feel were her hands gripping the arm rests on her chair; all she could see was the look of unwavering concentration on Sinclair’s Minbari face. And then they jumped.

“Take back the stick,” Sinclair instructed, his voice calm and steady, as if he was utterly unaware of the fact that he had just transformed water into wine. “We’ve almost burned through. Valen to Minbari fleet! I’m burning through the ship’s hull. As soon as I’m clear, I’m going to need a mid-flight refueling. We’re going to follow the alien vessel to its destination and exact retribution!”  
“Affirmative, Entil'Zha.”  
“Jeff?”  
“Hold on – just one more minute here – we’re through!” The air in the docking bay blew out into the vacuum of space, taking the five alien bodies along the way. Sinclair flew them backward out of the hole, then spun the ship around and raced for the safety offered by his fleet. He leaned back in his seat and dropped his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes and exhaling in relief. He sat back up and closed his eyes for a moment, then looked at his fiancee sadly. “You wanted to know what I saw back there?” he said to Sakai softly. “They were conducting live experiments on the pilots from those other ships.” Sakai turned to him in horror. “It was the most gruesome, the most terrible, the most evil thing I’ve ever seen.” The calmness departed from his voice and face as he reached out to the communications grid again. “This is Valen – where is that refueling?” he snapped.  
“En route to you now, Entil'Zha.”  
“Is there anything we can do for them? The other pilots, I mean?” asked Sakai. Grimly, Sinclair shook his head.  
“Other than end their misery? No. Not after what’s been done to them. Trust me on this one Cath, and don’t inquire further. You really don’t want to know more.” He spoke again to his fleet. “All ships, this is Valen. The vessel you are now following contains an ally of the Shadows. I intercepted them while they were in communication. Furthermore, while inside their ship I discovered that they are responsible for numerous atrocities – I suspect they may have exterminated the Ashu! We must find their homeworld and put an end to their reign of terror. Once we are there, destroy the vessel we are following. Then target all military installations, space docks and industrial complexes, orbital defenses and power stations! Fire at will!”  
“Affirmative, Entil’Zha.”

The operation began as he planned. Once the shuttle was refueled, Sinclair flew them only a few feet above one of the Minbari cruisers, in a new maneuver that he told Sakai was known as “skin dancing.” He’d learned it from the Warrior Caste, and used it to minimize the odds of their shuttle being chosen as a target. The cruisers of this era, Sakai noted, were somewhat smaller, sleeker and less decorative than the ones that had decimated Earth’s fleet during the War, but she was glad to be on the Minbari side of this conflict nonetheless.

As they entered the solar system that contained the enemy’s homeworld, they were hailed and notified that they had entered “Streib space,” and warned to leave immediately. Valen’s contingent of four heavy cruisers, several armed flyers and numerous Starfuries responded with deadly force. As ordered, they destroyed the ship that Sinclair and Sakai had boarded, eliminated two satellites and a shipyard orbiting the Streib homeworld, then began identifying and bombarding military targets on the planet itself. Sakai was monitoring their progress from their shuttle when an enormous cloud could be seen rising from a brilliantly glowing spot on the planet’s surface. Sinclair leaned forward in surprise.

“What was that? What did we just hit?”  
“I’m not certain … that cloud – it’s composed of water vapor – steam – wow! Look at these readings, Jeff – the level of radioactivity in the cloud is enormous!”  
“Valen to fleet. I have just identified a burst of extreme radioactivity rising into the Streib atmosphere. What was targeted?”  
“It was a power station, Entil'Zha – since it was located beside a large body of water, we assumed it to be a source of hydroelectric power … you specified we should fire upon such a target. Is there a problem, Entil'Zha?”  
“Jeff – that orange glow? It’s the result of a runaway fission reaction! We’re watching a melt-down!”  
“Are you telling me they actually had a nuclear fission power plant?” he queried in disbelief. “A race sophisticated enough to construct a spaceship with hyperspace capabilities and they were still using nuclear power? Fission, not fusion?”   
“See for yourself – the core is burning!”  
“And this second cloud?”  
“Radioactive dust.”  
“I intended to cripple their ability to assist the Shadows, but I never …” Sinclair’s expression changed from one of astonishment to anguish. “I had no intention of destroying an entire planet, of possibly killing an entire race!” he exclaimed to Sakai.  
“Awaiting further orders, Entil'Zha.”  
“Break off attack! Henceforth, I wish to be informed before any similar target is fired upon; is that understood? My intent was for us to cripple them militarily, not to irradiate their civilian population.”  
“Affirmative, Entil'Zha.”

Sinclair looked over at Sakai in dismay.  
“What have I done?”  
“Your mission was to stop them – to eliminate them from further participation in the Shadow War. You’ve done that. There was no reason for you to suspect a spacefaring race would be using such antiquated technology. And you did say they were guilty of vivisection ….”  
“And now? What am I guilty of?”  
“It was a simple oversight, Jeff; who would have thought they’d endanger their homeworld like that? It’s not like you planned on ravaging their environment or dropped a nuclear weapon on them or something.”  
“No, maybe not. But it troubles me ... I forget sometimes exactly when I am, and who’s in my army. Occasionally, I’ll use Earth Force jargon, imprecise terms, forgetting that the Minbari are unfamiliar with the implications behind those words – I have to remember to spell it all out. An Earth Force crew given the same order wouldn’t have fired on such an unusual target without further verification. It almost frightens me, Cath, when I see how unquestioningly, how amorally these Minbari fight their battles.” He gazed into space for a moment, thinking. “I’ve got a lot of work ahead of me. Fly us back to Minbar, Catherine; once we’re in orbit I’ll take us in to Tuzanor.” Sinclair sat back and closed his eyes, and Sakai followed the retreating Minbari fleet.


	16. The Next Thing They Saw

\-- 15 --  
\-- THE NEXT THING THEY SAW --

“It’s just how we left it last week!” Catherine exclaimed at her first view of the comfortable little house she and Jeff had lived in on Minbar.  
“Shh … keep your head down,” Sinclair instructed out of the corner of his mouth, as he spied a pair of priests heading their way.  
“Well met, Entil’Zha Valen,” one of them greeted, “Nermer and I were just wondering when you would be returning – we had an appointment to discuss some of your recent teachings, if you’ll recall, and we were surprised to discover you had departed.”  
“My apologies, Braoon, there were some developments on the warfront that I needed to investigate. Fortunately, I can report that the matter has been dealt with successfully. Once Zathras returns to Minbar I'll have him reschedule our meeting. Now, if you will excuse me …”  
“Of course, Entil’Zha, but please, may we inquire as to who this acolyte is?” Catherine felt her heart rate speed up and lowered her head even further beneath the white hood. They’d only just stepped out of their transport – was she going to ruin things for Jeff before she could even make it into the house?  
“Yes, this is … Lennier, a young student who will be doing transcription for me. Please go on ahead, Lennier – I’m certain Rathmer can use your help in unpacking my things.” Catherine managed to squelch her automatic protest to being ordered around, bowed lowly in the general direction of the two priests, and moved to the house as quickly as she could without giving the impression of urgency. Once inside, she was just about to throw the cowl off of her head when she saw another Minbari heading her way from the kitchen wing. She hoped the smattering of modern Adrinato, the Religious Caste tongue, she spoke would pass without attracting further attention. Much to her relief, Sinclair arrived before she was forced to speak.

“Greetings, Rathmer. This is Lennier, a student who will be residing with me for some time. I will require an extra place set at each meal, but you will no longer be needed to perform other housework.”  
“Entil’Zha?” the worker asked in wonderment, and as Catherine stole a glance at him, she realized his eyes too were aimed firmly at the ground.  
“Yes. I have decided it will be good for members of the Religious Caste to exercise their hands at manual labor from time to time, in the hopes that it will recall to them the great service those of your own Caste so graciously provide us with. Lennier here will be my first such experiment.”  
“Yes Entil’Zha. Will you be eating just before sunset as usual, Entil’Zha?”   
“That will be fine. Thank you.” Valen replied. To Sakai, who was still staring at the floor, it felt as if hours passed before he spoke again. “Dammit! This is exhausting,” he announced in English, and Catherine assumed it was safe to remove the hood at last. She shook out her long black hair and looked around. The room did look exactly like it would a thousand years hence.  
“Lennier?” she asked him indignantly, “you couldn’t come up with a better name than that?”  
“It was the first male name that came to mind. Why? Does that choice bother you? After all, Lennier was Delenn’s trusted aide, and Delenn was on The Grey Council …”  
“That’s just it – if you think of Lennier, you automatically think of Delenn next. And well, I don’t know, I just always had a sneaking suspicion there was something going on between the two of you.”  
“Oh really?” Sinclair asked innocently. “What would make you say that?”  
“I don’t know, just … You know, I’m not sure. Forget I said anything. Anyway, what’s this crap about me cleaning the house?”  
“Don’t worry about it – Zathras or I will take care of it – I just wanted to make sure no one would come around during the day so you don’t have to worry about hiding all the time.” Sinclair put his hands on her hips and pulled her toward him. “I feel terrible about shutting you up in here as it is. I’ll figure something out as soon as I can. Thank you again, Catherine. I knew I needed you, but I didn’t know just how much until you arrived.” He kissed her lightly. “I think we made one hell of a team out there in that shuttle, don’t you?”  
“Yeah, we did, didn’t we,” she laughed, “and it seems your record stands – you’re still undefeated in combat. But what’s going on here? You out to become the Karl Marx of Minbar?” she continued, avoiding his other, sadder reflections. “Aiming to free the proletariat from their Religious and Warrior Caste oppressors?” Sinclair moved away, putting down the sack of books and papers he had brought with him.  
“It’s no joke, Catherine – they’re treated like slaves here. They do all the work while the other two castes revel in the glory. That’s certainly something I want to try to change.”  
“But Jeff, you know it won’t work … I mean, Minbar wasn’t exactly a union shop kind of planet in the 2250s either.” She pulled the white robes off over her head and threw them onto a chair.  
“Maybe this time I’ll have more effect – who knows? I still have to try.” He glanced around the room. “I’d give you the grand tour, but really, everything is exactly where it was before.”  
“I see that – it’s kind of comforting. Except for that miserable Minbari bed.”  
“Oh damn! I forgot to ask Rathmer to get another one – we need to keep our cover story solid. Remember, if anybody asks,” he said, moving back to the door, “you’re a boy, okay?”  
“Gosh, Jeff, I disappear for four years and you get all perverted on me?” she joked, but Valen was already gone. Sakai looked around the tiny place and sighed. As cozy as it had been before, she was already getting the feeling that it was going to make a pretty claustrophobic prison cell.


	17. Out in Plain View

\-- 16 --  
\-- OUT IN PLAIN VIEW --

Sinclair and Sakai were both too exhausted by the time they’d finished eating dinner to do anything more than wrestle the bed into a horizontal position and promptly fall asleep in it. At some point long before daybreak, however, Sakai awoke to the sound of Sinclair whispering in her ear to wake up. She rubbed her eyes groggily and rolled away.

“Sleepy, Jeff. Leave me alone,” she mumbled.  
“There’s someplace I want to show you – before everyone else is up and about.”  
“Did you ever think there’s a reason why they aren’t up now?” she moaned into her pillow.  
“Come on, wake up,” he pestered her enthusiastically until she complied. For an instant, she was alarmed by how different and how much older he looked without hair. And those little ears at the corners of his jaw were weird too. But who other than Jeffrey Sinclair would rouse her from bed in the middle of the night for a tour of Minbar? 

Sinclair helped her into unfamiliar Minbari clothes, demonstrated how they all folded together to create closures, then took her by the hand and led her out into the light of two full moons. Sakai gasped in appreciation – the mountains, the valley, the house itself, danced with subtle colors and shades of light. It was an enchanting performance; almost as wonderful to see as the expression of delight on Sinclair’s face as he watched her take it all in. In the three months they had spent on Minbar together before, they had never done this, never gone for a midnight stroll along the outskirts of Tuzanor. 

Sinclair guided her past gleaming quartz temples and small homes enrobed in sleep into a forest filled with the singing of harmless insects and nocturnal birds. They walked without speaking, the night charged with magic. Finally, Sinclair stopped at a meadow filled with translucent white flowers whose faces were turned up in the moonlight as if to the sun. He threw off his patterned brown Entil'Zha robe and laid it out on the ground, inviting her to sit beside him.

“This is so beautiful, Jeff, “ she whispered, “how did you find this place?”  
“There have been a lot of sad, long nights when I couldn’t sleep for thinking of you,” he replied, putting an arm around her waist and gazing up at the sky, “I’d leave the house and go walking, wishing I had you to share everything with. I just couldn’t wait to actually take you to some of the places I’ve discovered. We won’t be able to walk about together in the daylight for a while, but I think this spot is nicer at night anyway.”   
“You’re still such a romantic,” Catherine teased with appreciation, leaning against him as she admired the view.  
“I can’t believe I really found you – that you’re really here,” Sinclair sighed, looking back over at her, holding her hand firmly. “And I didn’t know if you’d be willing to stay – especially with me looking like this.” Catherine frowned at him.  
“So what you’re saying is that you missed me, but you also thought I was shallow, huh?”  
“No, that’s not what I meant, I … damn, I always get myself into trouble when I try to talk to you, don’t I?”  
“So don’t talk,” Catherine replied, pushing against him and kissing him as they lay down together.  
“Wait,” Sinclair interrupted, “let me try to say one more thing.” Sakai propped her head up on her hand and watched him attentively. “You know I, I wanted to do everything right; the whole wedding on Babylon 5 thing and all, and obviously that’ll never happen now, but, well, I mean, if we could still get married, if you still want to marry me…” she leaned in closer to him, but said nothing, smiled but refused to help him out. She found the way he became tongue-tied whenever he talked about his feelings especially endearing. How had he proposed to her last time? She almost giggled aloud remembering him demanding; “look, do you want to get married or not?” And when she’d said yes, his response had been to turn away, as if his happiness were something he felt he was supposed to hide, and then offer her coffee! What a complicated man she’d fallen in love with.  
“I had to leave everything of mine behind, Catherine – I couldn’t take anything with me but the clothes on my back, but, uh, I brought along one small thing, and this is it.” Sinclair opened a hand to reveal a simple gold ring. “I bought it at the Zocalo right before I left B5 for Earth – the day after you left on your last assignment for Universal Terraform. Unfortunately, mine was on order, so I only have the one. So, even though we can’t really get married now, uh, if you’re sure about…”  
“Give me the ring, Jeff,” she said quietly, serious now herself. “It doesn’t matter to me what you look like or if we ever have a ceremony. If we say we’re married, we’ll be married.” She sat up and held out her left hand. Sinclair took it in his own, gazed into her eyes steadily.  
“Will you marry me, Catherine?”  
“Yes,” she smiled, feeling her face aglow. “It even fits,” Catherine remarked as he slid the band on her finger.  
“Must be destiny,” he whispered, pulling her to him for a kiss.  
“How long ‘til sunrise?” she murmured into one of his small Minbari ears.  
“Long enough.”  
They lay back down on his coat; Catherine stretched out on top of him. Sinclair could feel every warm contour of her body through her clothes, and yet he still questioned her very existence. It was so strange to be kissing her again, after four long years alone. After all of the imaginary dialogues he'd had with her in his mind. All of the days when the sight of a pair of lovers had brought him such exquisite torment. He remembered those eventful days first on Babylon 5, then the WhiteStar, then Babylon 4, when he had seen his old friend Delenn again, watched the tender and innocent way she and John Sheridan moved together, clearly unaware of what was growing between them. He had felt such great happiness for her, but even that had been tinged with jealousy. Could it be that he was truly with his own love? Was no evil twist of fate going to snatch Catherine away from him once more? Was it really safe to feel again?

To Sakai, it was an even more peculiar sensation to be drawing at the mouth of the very same man she had made love with just a few days before – with the dramatic difference being that he’d been all Human then, and was largely Minbari now. It was, she thought, a hell of a way to have something new injected into the love life of a couple who had known each other for over fifteen years. 

Fairly soon, Sakai stopped analyzing and lost herself in the moment, because Sinclair was kissing her furiously, working his hands through her hair and tugging at it gently where it met her scalp. She moved her own hands to his head and was reminded anew that he was Valen when her fingers banged against the mass of fluted bone that had replaced his own dark locks. Tentatively, she ran her fingertips along one of the protruding ridges, and unexpectedly found it was covered with a fine velvet-like down. As she played with it, rubbing the grain of it back and forth, Jeff rumbled a sound of deep pleasure.  
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he was still mumbling between desperate kisses, and Catherine tried to imagine what it had been like for him, not knowing if she were alive or if he would ever see her again. She couldn’t fathom it. For her, there had been a moment of brief panic, as she found her ship unwilling to respond to her commands, but she had also heard Jeff’s voice across her com system, promising he was going to try to rescue her. Abruptly, there was a blinding light, a shock wave of some kind struck her vessel, and then, nothing. Nothing until she opened her eyes on Babylon 4 and had seen him, transformed into a Minbari. Perhaps that was why his transfiguration troubled her so little – it had happened in the blink of an eye. 

Catherine opened hers and received a cross-eyed view of Jeff’s short, thick lashes and the tiny crinkles at the far corners of his lids. He was biting her lips, devouring her kisses with the zeal of a starving man. He had wanted her countless times over the years, but she didn’t recall ever being the object of such a plaintive and ravenous need. Now he was unfolding her unfamiliar new clothes, covering one of her breasts with his mouth and teasing her nipple the way long experience had taught him she enjoyed best. Catherine moaned and let him roll them over, the moist flowers and ground cover snapping softly beneath her back. She abruptly realized just when and where they were, and for a moment, shared Sinclair’s uncertainty that any of it could be happening. Was she really lying naked in an open meadow full of flowers someplace on Minbar? Was it really the thirteenth century back on Earth? Was this stranger, this Minbari man she had only just met really her husband -- really Jeffrey Sinclair? Even with the reflected light of Minbar’s two moons, it was still dark enough to make her feel dreamy and the murkiness lent an air of fantasy and impossibility to all of their actions. 

Catherine tightened her hands around his biceps and found his muscles were larger and firmer than they’d been before. He must be working out a lot, she thought, before wondering if there was anything about Jeff’s body that hadn’t changed. She almost felt as though she were cheating on him, which really made no sense. Then she thought about his words earlier, onboard the shuttle; about him inhabiting a body that didn’t fully belong to him, and decided he was probably thinking something similar himself. 

Sinclair was still struggling to persuade himself that he wasn’t dreaming. He had wished for Catherine’s presence for so long that only the tangible taste and feel of her smooth skin convinced him he was actually awake. As Catherine’s hand ran along the lines of horn on the back of his head, he felt an almost electric tingling run all the way down to the base of his spine. If she wasn’t really there, then he was having the most powerfully erotic dream of his life. 

He groaned again and fumbled with one hand to get his own clothes undone. The air was now heady with the aroma of the flowers they had crushed, and he drank in the unfamiliar smell with pleasure. It was as though his senses, even the ones he had perceived as heightened, had been muffled for all the years that she had been gone. Now everything came flooding back to him in a welcome torrent of sensation. He kissed her as if he had never kissed anyone before in his life and in response, Sakai ran her hands across his broad, muscular shoulders and down his sinewy back.   
“Oh Catherine,” Sinclair complained, and she opened her eyes to see his face corrugated with urgency. The paint-splatter design atop his head was as black in value as the night sky, a fanciful reality that Catherine found strangely exciting. Lost in a fog of her own passionate desire, she coupled with him, groaning desperately herself. They ground their hips together, then came in a matter of seconds with separate and explosive cries. As Sinclair had said of the impending dawn, their earthy diversion hadn’t lasted long, but it was long enough.

They lay quietly together, Catherine watching the night sky beyond his head, Jeff idly playing with her hair, his eyes closed and his face pressed sideways against her breasts. Catherine refocused her eyes on his helm of bone.

“It looks like some kind of stone feathers,” she said enigmatically. He grunted back questioningly. “This curve of bone off the very top of the side of your head,” she said, following the sweep of his crest with her fingers, and causing him to gasp again in surprise. “It’s like you have two wings on your head,” she continued, purposely teasing the tip of it with her index finger and quite obviously driving Sinclair to distraction.  
“If you don’t stop doing that,” he said, “I won’t be able to get off of you and take you home to breakfast.” Sakai giggled, but complied.  
“Well, Sinclair,” she whispered smokily, “I’ll leave you be when I get my poem for the night.”  
“Hmm?” he uttered contentedly, his eyes still closed.  
“Don’t you remember how when we lived together at the Academy you always said that making love with me brought poetry to mind? So what did I make you think of tonight?” Jeff laughed, smiled, turned his head and opened one eye to look at her.  
“I’m thinking ‘Song of Songs:’ ‘In sandy earth or deep/In valley soil/I grow, a wildflower thriving/On your love.’”   
“Oh! Very good! Nice sense of place, extra points for the non-traditional translation, quite appropriate for our wedding night,” she said approvingly, silently clapping her fingers together in mock applause. “How did you ever manage to survive as such a mushy romantic among all those fly-boys and jarheads?”  
“A strong, quick punch, “ he joked, “and the ability to out-fly and out-shoot just about any of them once we hit space. No one makes fun of a guy who hits 98% of his targets.”  
“’Just about any of them’? Who was better?”  
“Who remembers,” he said, sitting up at last, “it was another…” Sinclair broke off, frowned. “I was about to say ‘another lifetime,’ and it struck me,” he looked down at his now hairless body, “I guess it was.” Quietly, he began to get dressed.   
“Ooo! Ooo!” Sakai giggled, remembering something he'd said. “Are you really blue? Let me see,” she sat up to look, but he already had his pants on.  
“If you can tell the difference between blue and any other color in this light, it means we’d better hurry ourselves back home,” he announced, rising, but not without a smile. Sinclair offered a hand to help Sakai to her feet, gestured to her to turn around so he could brush the flowers off her back.  
“Oh damn,” he exclaimed, reaching for his coat and discovering their gyrations had ground grass stains into it.  
“Whoops,” Catherine laughed as she dressed, “guess you’ll have to get another one once we’re home.”   
“If I had another one. Do you know the Minbari saved this coat for me for nine hundred years before I was presented it at that ceremony … well, for you, I suppose it happened only a few weeks ago.”  
“But if we just ruined it now and you have to replace it, it can’t very well be the one they saved for you, can it?”  
“Ow. Time travel really does things to my head.” Catherine eyed his crown of bone once again and groaned. Pleased by her appropriate acknowledgement of his pun, he continued. “Either way, it looks like it’ll be a ‘plain dress’ day for the Entil’Zha.”  
“I think we sacrificed it for a worthy cause,” she said, kissing him briefly.  
“Definitely,” he agreed, throwing the soiled garment over his arm and almost paternally arranging the hood of Catherine’s robe atop her head. He pulled himself up straight, into the square-shouldered, ramrod postured stance he invariably displayed in public. “Time to be Valen again,” he reflected, leading her back towards town.


	18. Nearsightedness

\-- 17 --  
\-- NEARSIGHTEDNESS --

Once Valen had left for the day, Sakai carefully latched all the doors and sat down at the computer in his office, figuring the most immediate task at hand for her was to learn the contemporary Minbari languages. She’d often been jealous of Jeff, with his photographic memory and his natural gift for picking up foreign tongues. That wasn’t a skill that came easily for her, but Catherine reasoned that since she was enrolled in the ultimate immersion course, she couldn’t help but learn eventually. 

Currently, her most pressing difficulty was in getting the computer to respond to her commands. After it failed to recognize her voice, she turned to the keyboard interface, but found that while it was functional, this method also yielded no results. Only after she’d wasted an hour trying to decipher the problem did it dawn on her that in order to avoid contaminating Minbar with knowledge of a race they wouldn’t encounter for a thousand years, Valen had erased all knowledge of spoken or written English. As she browsed through the files, she saw that everything about Humans seemed to be gone – there was no medical information, no notes on history or technology, no essays, no stories, no poetry. Although this made sense, and she should have expected as much once she noticed that the shuttle’s computer had been reprogrammed to display and respond in Minbari, Sakai was suddenly stricken with a hot and urgent burst of anxiety. She really was cut off from everything they’d ever known or been. And here she was, unlike him, still Human, now without any recourse if she were to become ill, or as he had warned her, was desperate just to see the image of a fellow Human. Trying to dissociate from her own sense of panic, she attempted to imagine how Jeff, of all people, had found the strength to do such a thing – to obliterate all of the words and works that meant so much to him. No wonder he’d said he felt like he had lost himself. In becoming Valen, Sinclair had also committed suicide.

Sakai began to feel even more anxious. What if, as time passed, he lost interest in maintaining a connection with that prior identity? Surely he couldn’t, shouldn’t, manage a split personality over an entire lifetime? He wanted her now, but who was to say that would be true in a year or ten? What if he came to want children – Minbari children? During Ranger training, she had read contradictory stories about Valen’s later life – some said he lived alone, had no offspring, others just the opposite. She knew Sinclair was being honest when he’d warned her that the Minbari of this time were unlikely to respond favorably to an alien sharing the time and the bed of the man who would become their greatest leader. And how long could they possibly keep a charade about her being an unknown young disciple going, anyway? What if she became a burdensome reminder of a life he wanted to forget? Maybe she had picked the wrong issue to argue with him over – maybe she should have left with the Vorlon.

“What the hell were you thinking, Sakai?” she asked herself aloud, angrily fighting back tears. She overheard footsteps in the kitchen wing of the house, and stood up to flee the office when in burst Zathras amidst a stream of clicking sounds and muttered phrases. She looked up tearfully and Zathras met her gaze. He nodded, rubbed his hands together, pointed to her in a flurry of excess movement and spoke directly to her heart.

“The One does not need Zathras now, so Zathras come, see Catherine, see if she have needings, yes? Zathras much pleased you are here. Before, The One speak of four friends,” he counted them off on his perpetually grubby fingers; “Catherine, Delenn, Garibaldi and Rathenn. But Catherine only he speak of every day to Zathras. The One have many great accomplishmentings but always the One speak of finding Catherine. 'Defeat Shadows, find Catherine,' he say. “Wish Catherine were here,' he say, 'Catherine tell me who I am.'” Despite herself a small smile crept to her lips. “The One complain too of Catherine but is good complainings you see? Say 'Only Catherine tell me off, not worship me, make me good and angry.' Zathras offer, say, 'Zathras pleased to make you angry,' but The One shake his head and say 'not the same.'” Catherine giggled at this recounted conversation, but Zathras wasn't through with his monologue. “Zathras,” he continued, “live for The One; die for The One, but Zathras think The One live for Catherine, live for hope of finding Catherine. Now The One have Catherine, no more sad. The One happy so Zathras happy. So Zathras happy to know Catherine, yes?”  
“Yes,” she laughed, “and I'm glad you're here. Tell me – where is Jeff now? What's he doing? Give me some news about the world outside these walls.”  
“Is much boring,” he said dismissively. “Catherine miss nothing interesting. The One meets with Council of Clan Elders. The One tell Zathras they are petty old bureaucrats, no vision for future, resist change, innovation. Once, The One tell Zathras he like to put entire Council in small capsule and launch them into sun. Zathras warn that not good idea, the One say; 'maybe not, but it would be most satisfying.' Zathras go to next meeting, listen carefully. Council protest Minbari leading War against Shadows. The One explain must do or it is the end of All. Council say much complainings. The One get angry. Zathras offer to set up rocket launch.”

Catherine smiled and Zathras laughed back in an appropriately peculiar way. She wondered if he even understood the humor in what he said – he delivered his lines with such straight-faced earnestness. She thought about the four years Jeff said he'd spent without her, then tried to picture him, so naturally solemn, with only this odd little man for real company. A person would either go crazy from listening to Zathras for a while, or have to learn to laugh a lot. Fortunately it sounded like Jeff had taken the latter approach. 

“Zathras bring hair soap from station,” he suddenly remembered, searching through the myriad layers of cloth and fur he dressed in, finally offering up a bottle which Sakai gratefully accepted. “Catherine have more needings?”  
“Not any more. I've been … worried. But I feel much better now. Thank you, Zathras.”


	19. Still Under Observation

\-- 18--  
\-- STILL UNDER OBSERVATION--

Delenn and Draal could see that days, then weeks, a full season passed, with life for Sakai and Sinclair settling into a pattern wherein they spent the daylight hours apart, with Catherine dividing her time between shadow boxing with her denn'bok and studying Minbari language. Later, having mastered the basics of all three dialects, she turned to reviewing the mounds of data reported to Valen about the movements of the Shadows and their allies, which she analyzed for him and made recommendations upon. Sakai often wondered how  
he had managed without her for those years before she’d joined him – there was so much to do as the leader of an interstellar army – supplies to be obtained, tracked, shipped, and paid for, vessels to deploy, troops to reassign, wounded to evacuate, and always things that broke down, were shot down, needed to be replaced. Where had he found the time to do all of that while also traveling around Minbar, listening, lecturing, gathering together in his mind the bits and pieces he needed in order to construct a new society? At least once a week, the two made certain to arrange a lighter schedule, so they’d have the energy to go out under cover of darkness, and be just Jeff and Catherine again.

Delenn’s journey along the mind-path that joined all things brought her to find the couple walking along the shores of a moraine lake, on a warm spring morning, guided by the light of one and a half full moons. The two were idly pitching stones into the water, watching the concentric rings of glitter flow out from where each pebble struck. Their murmured voices echoed across the lake, assailed the mountain range beyond, then returned, but fortunately, they were the only ones there to hear it.  
“So Kadenn confronted me again today,” Sinclair was saying, as he dropped Sakai’s hand to sort through the rocks at his feet. Selecting a particularly flat and round one, he pitched it sidearm across the lake, and they counted the number of times it skipped. “I lost sight at seven – pretty good,” he observed.  
“I saw five. So what happened? I’m amazed anyone let him get near you in the first place.”  
“Yes, well, the Wind Swords clan is a large and notoriously militant one – it’ll be a member of that clan who’ll try to murder Kosh in 2257 and cast suspicion for the attempt on me, you know.”  
“Talk about holding a grudge,” Catherine remarked, and they both laughed heartily. “Drat! Only three. And that was a good rock I wasted, too,” she finished, watching her own attempt at stone skipping.  
“Here – try this one. So of course I turned him down again, and there was the ensuing shouting match…”  
“You don’t shout – you whisper when you’re mad.”  
“Really?”  
“Really. It’s quite effective, too. Somehow it suggests a frighteningly controlled fury – it makes you seem, well, very dangerous.”  
“Well, Kadenn did enough shouting for the both of us, anyway. But I tell you, Catherine, I’m becoming concerned – the Shadows have been hitting us hard lately. There’ve been so many casualties – I’m worried that soon, if I don’t let Kadenn and the others like him enlist,” he sighed, dropped a rock and faced her, “I’m afraid I won’t have enough men and women left to win the War. I’d like to start admitting qualified members of the other castes, but I’m worried about the message of desperation that might send. I can’t defeat an enemy without a strong army, but I also can’t do it with a disillusioned and frightened populace either. Got any ideas for me?”  
“Not on this one,” she declared, reaching for his hand again as they turned around to walk back the way they’d came. “Military matters are really more your expertise than mine – I never got past being ‘first grunt,’ remember?”  
“Now, now, Lieutenant Sakai, First Grade, it’s not like Earth Force promoted me all that much higher either,“ he teased.  
“What kind of way is that for the Anla’shok Na to talk?”  
“Yeah, yeah, but Earth Force had nothing to do with that, and even so; I was only chosen for the position because Valen got there first,” Sinclair laughed, referring to himself as two separate people, as he often did when he and Sakai spoke. “I just inherited the post!”  
“Nepotism!” she accused mockingly. “Hey, speaking of inheriting, how did my idea for that ruling about the children with parents from different Castes go over?”  
“Oh Catherine, I wish you could have been there to see it!” Sinclair replied, throwing his head back in laughter, “I think the entire male membership of the Council of Clan Elders was terribly sorry they’d decided to defer to Valen’s ‘sage wisdom’ there – when I decreed for matrilineal descent, you could have heard the proverbial pin drop!” He paused to study her face in the moonlight. “We definitely shook up the patriarchy with that one. History will give me all the credit, but I’d be glad to share it with you if I could.” They stopped near the base of a waterfall and he leaned down to kiss her. “Want to head for home now?”  
“No,” she responded, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again. “I’m going for a swim.” She pulled away from his lips slowly, purposefully teasing him. Sinclair folded his arms across his chest and stood back; watching appreciatively with his head to one side as she stripped off her clothes and climbed atop a pile of rocks to dive in. As she threw herself at the water, he called out to her.  
“You realize this lake is glacier-fed?” He roared with laughter as she came up to the surface, screaming and sputtering. “Shh! Not so loud! You’ll wake all of Minbar!” Sakai swam rapidly back to the shore, and Sinclair admired her lithe body as she stepped from the icy water.  
“I can’t believe you let me do that!” she objected, as she raced toward him, shivering. “And unless you want your new coat ruined, Entil’Zha, you’d better take it off now, before I throw you in!”  
“Feel free to try,” he bantered back, “but extreme temperatures really don’t affect Minbari physiology the same way. Looks rather refreshing, actually.”  
“You!” she spat, punching him hard in the chest as he surrounded her cold and naked body with his arms. “If the Minbari could see you now, Valen Jeffrey David Sinclair…” He smiled sweetly at her and tried to stop chuckling.  
“They’d be jealous,” he finished, squeezing her thighs approvingly.  
“You don’t actually think I’m going to kiss you, do you?” Catherine laughed, seeing the look on his face, and noting the design atop his down-turned head flushing a darker shade of blue.  
“Yes. Yes I do.”   
“You are just so damn self-assured!”  
“If that’s true, it’s all your fault. Now kiss me, Kate.” Catherine rolled her eyes.  
“Just for saying that, I’ll only do it if I get my poetry first,” she insisted, and rubbed closer against him in encouragement. Sinclair looked skyward for a moment, thinking.  
“’Had we but World enough, and Time/This coyness Lady were no crime. /We would sit down, and think which way/To walk, and pass our long Loves Day.’ Andrew Marvell – ‘To His Coy Mistress,’” he offered.  
“One of the ‘metaphysical poets,’ right? When was that? Sixteenth Century?”  
“Seventeenth. Now give me that kiss.”

Happily, Catherine offered him her half-opened lips, closed her eyes and drank in his breath. She sensed her skin tingling with something other than goose pimples from the frigid lake. Jeff, however, thought otherwise, breaking away and putting his coat over her shoulders.

“You are really cold – come on – let’s get you inside and finish this later.” Reluctantly, she nodded, bounced up and down while he walked away to retrieve her clothing. Trembling, she exchanged his coat for her clothes and struggled to put them on. “Uh oh!” Jeff exclaimed, looking out across the lake, “I think I see someone.”  
“That’s not funny,” Catherine admonished, wringing out her hair.  
“I’m not joking. Hurry up.” She barely had the time to throw the hood over her head and arrange it over her face when she too saw the three approaching figures. To their dismay, one of them held up a hand in greeting.  
“Do you think they saw my hair, saw us kissing?”  
“I don’t know. Let’s start walking as if we didn’t see them.” They had just reached the path back to town when someone called out to them. “Damn. From now on, I’m wearing something more generic at night,” Sinclair whispered, then turned to the intruders.

“Greetings and well met, Entil’Zha,” one of them saluted, “Enjoying the moonlight as well?” Valen felt the top of his head burning, but naturally, the harder he tried not to think lascivious thoughts, the more they occurred to him. Catherine, suddenly realizing her clothes were sticking to her body and revealing that she was definitely not a young man, tried to hide behind him.  
“Yes. Yes I am thank you. Here Lennier, “ he said, swirling off his coat to conceal her, “if you are cold, you may wear my robe.” Sakai breathed a sigh of relief as she draped it loosely around her, then noticed Valen pretending to scratch his head and realized there was trouble ahead. What a stupid sexual display for the Minbari to have evolved, she began to think, when another of their unwelcome companions spoke.  
“It appears you are heading back for Tuzanor – may we have the honor of accompanying you, Entil’Zha?”  
“Well, uh, normally I would be most pleased to, Caldarn, but my student and I were … we were discussing….” There was only one thing on his mind, and it was not helping. Or was it? He drew the three men aside and spoke to them in hushed tones. Catherine didn’t understand much in Feek, the Worker Caste tongue they were conversing in, so she had no idea what Valen said. But he had them laughing, then exchanging bows and moving off alone. She waited until Valen was right beside her, then peeked out from under her cowl to be certain the three men were gone.

“Jeff?” she asked, almost inaudibly.  
“Good thing a curious young boy like yourself is wrestling with puberty, or we’d have an entourage all the way to the front door,” he explained. “I let them know I was describing the ‘facts of life’ in some detail for you.”  
“Do you think they bought it?”  
“As far as I can tell, they didn’t see us fooling around, and none of them are about to question something Valen says. But I guess we’re going to have to be more careful, even at night,” he mused morosely. “Damn. This time we spend alone together means a lot to me, and I know it does to you too. It’s always a relief just being Jeffrey Sinclair for a while.”  
“Then let’s not let this incident ruin the night,” Catherine offered brightly. “Let’s get home where you can warm me up.” Jeff nodded, but she could tell that he was brooding the whole way back.  
“Jeff?” she asked yet again, once they were in their small, windowless bedroom.  
“Hmm” he said absently, sitting down on the end of the bed and taking off his boots.  
“Give me another stanza and I’ll give you another kiss.”  
“How is it,” Sinclair questioned ruefully, “that whenever I’m down, you’re up, and visa versa?”  
“It’s just part of our personal tradition of never agreeing on anything,” she answered, removing her damp clothes. She sidled up to him, pecked him on the cheek, and then sprawled out across the bed, naked. “The night’s a-wasting.” He got a good look at her and laughed.  
“All right, all right. Since I want more than a kiss and you’re in such a demanding mood…” he shot her a lot of pure devilry, “I’ll give you an entire poem. Are you ready? ‘I have been here before, /But when or how I cannot tell: /I know the grass beyond the door, /The sweet keen smell, /The sighing sound, the lights around the shore. /You have been mine before, /How long ago I may not know: /But just when at that swallow’s soar/Your neck turned so, /Some veil did fall – I knew it all of yore. /Has this been thus before? /And shall not thus times’ eddying flight/Still with our lives our love restore/In death’s despite, /And day and night yield one delight once more?’”  
“It’s beautiful, but I don’t think I recognize that one,” Catherine mused, beckoning him to lay down with her.  
“It's ‘Sudden Light’ by Dante Gabriel Rossetti? Better known as a painter during the Victorian Era? Member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood?”  
“You never memorized anything from beyond the Nineteenth Century, did you?”  
“Ah, but it’s the Thirteenth Century now, so at last, I’m a futurist!”  
“It’s certainly been the key to your success with the Minbari.”  
“What I want to know is whether it’s going to work with you?”  
“All these years and you haven’t figured the answer to that out by now? I did marry you, remember?” she joked, putting her arms around his neck. “Really, Jeff, you’re not nearly as smart as they think.”  
“So I keep telling them.”

Gently, he lowered his body onto hers, and they began to kiss: tenderly and leisurely at first, then with greater fervor and increasing desire. Jeff was playing with the damp ringlets of her hair as he nibbled on her earlobes, and it occurred to Catherine to further explore the crest of bone around his head. Over time, it had continued to grow, until the small wings she had first played with a few months before were now of prodigious size. She’d wondered how he could hold his head up with all that mass piled atop his spine, and Jeff had told her that periodically, one had to carve them back down to size, as he had already, twice before. She moved her head so she could run her tongue across the ridge where it joined his face, and Jeff let out a raw gasp of astonishment, forgot to keep his weight on his forearms, and nearly crushed the air from her lungs as he fell on her. Catherine let out her own cry, Jeff rolled off of her, and once they’d each caught their breath, they began to laugh.  
“You’ll be the death of me yet!” he exclaimed, laughing.  
“I wanted to see what it tastes like,” she giggled apologetically.  
“And?”  
“It was nice – kind of the way your sweat used to taste when we were making love. I miss your sweat. Your sweat and your body hair,” she ran a hand across his now smooth chest, with its small blue nipples. “But then again, this offers all sorts of new possibilities.” She turned on her side next to him and returned her attentions to pleasuring him, tickling the fuzz that followed the bone in arcs and knobs around his head. Jeff squeezed his eyes shut in an expression of exquisite tension, and Catherine moved her body closer again, laying a leg across his and grasping his right hand in her left one, holding him down against the bed. It amused her to watch the semi-symmetrical frostwork on his scalp change its colors, from cerulean to cobalt, cobalt to ultramarine, ultramarine to a deep, almost black shade of indigo. Here she had thought his needs and desires were easy to read as a Human – now they were imprinted right there above his face! She reversed her earlier thoughts regarding the value of this display.

Catherine felt all of Jeff’s powerful muscles tense beneath her as he tried to maintain the pretense she had begun of his being a prisoner to her command. She kissed him with her thick, full lips, then worked her way down his neck and his chest, the heavy mop of her wet hair following her head down his body like the vapor trail of a comet. Jeff started to reach for her, so she caught his other hand as well, held them both against his sides as she hovered over his taut abdomen. From there she used her tongue to follow the other blue trail on his skin down from his navel.

She had seen him naked enough times to have overcome her initial hilarity at discovering that he’d been telling her the truth – Minbari genitalia, were indeed blue. After sneaking a peek at a few medical texts on the computer, she was grateful that the external changes the Triluminary had made to Sinclair were limited to that strange coloration, the unfortunate loss of all his hair, and of course, the bone crest on his head. Anything further might well have been just a bit too weird for her, no matter how much she loved him. No wonder, in all of her travels, she’d run across so very few interspecies couples. So all around, she counted their blessings, not the least of which was that she was with him at all.

Sinclair decided he’d had enough of one-sided foreplay, broke her hold on his hands, and pulled her face back to his own, encouraging her to lay on top of him while he devoted keen attention to her needs. At last they made slow and careful love with one another, moving together deliberately until they each came gasping and sobbing and whispering desperate ‘I love you’s.’

They settled back down on the bed, and Catherine covered Jeff’s body with her own, enthralled by the sound of his ragged breathing and pounding heart. He began to lift a hand to stroke her hair, but dropped it back down against the bed as if he lacked the strength to carry the action out. Catherine knew dawn was impending, but hoped that if she lay there, quiet and still, Sinclair would be able to get a little sleep before he had to head out for another busy day of being Valen. 

She wished she knew how much rest Minbari really needed, so she’d know if he was telling her the truth when he claimed he had the energy to essentially spend two full days in one – one out among the people, and one at night with her. Catherine herself was desperate for daylight, tired of living like a bat, but the more she learned about the Minbari, the more she questioned how he would ever be able to get them to accept her presence in his life. On rare occasions, she left the confines of their diminutive house to walk, carefully shrouded, in their garden, but the keen awareness of the limits on her freedom such outings inspired usually negated any benefits. 

The Minbari were an insular people, and this was at once their greatest strength and greatest weakness. Where the Human impulse was an individualistic one, the Minbari, it seemed, was a collective one. And a large part of that collective sense was the placement of strong strictures against anything from the outside, anything too different. I, she thought, am definitely too different.

Catherine turned her head slightly to study the relaxed features of Jeff’s face. She had always enjoyed watching him sleep after they made love, after all his guards were down. She sometimes fancied she could see straight to his soul at those moments, see the real man inside of that strong, well-muscled shell. What she saw at such times was the same thing she’d been searching for and found in his eyes the day she awoke on Babylon 4 and discovered that he’d exchanged one body for another. Part of what made him so unique and irresistible was that at his core, he was exactly whom he appeared to be on the outside – dignified, honest, compassionate and giving – with one exception. He liked to pretend on the surface that he was invulnerable, emotionally unassailable, but on the inside, he was quite the opposite. He cared too much, he gave too much, he loved and yearned too much. Maybe before the War, Jeff really had been a rock, actually believed he was indestructible. After the War, well, how many times had they broken up precisely because he’d refused to feel, and resisted any suggestion that what he’d been through and had seen might have touched him in any way? Everything inside of him had been shattered, but he had been too stubborn to let it show, to let it out -- even to her. 

Someone or something had changed him between their last break-up while he was stationed on Mars, and their reunion on Babylon 5, although Catherine had no idea who or what that could have been. The irony was that once Sinclair had finally admitted his own humanity to himself, he’d had to become Valen, and was forced to suppress his Human impulses in the most profound way. As Valen, he had to deny not only his identity and experience and feelings, but to take on the burdens of an entire world. It wasn’t something anyone else she’d ever met could have done. It wasn’t something she’d be able to do. But Jeff had done it, for four years now, and he appeared to be doing it well. If she’d felt he was a remarkable individual when they’d first met at the Academy, or even upon their reunion on Babylon 5, how could she possibly measure her intrigue in him now? She knew how uncomfortable he was with the Minbari veneration of him, so she tried to keep her own admiration well concealed, but it was there nonetheless. How could she not be willing to “live for The One, die for The One,” even if he didn’t ever want to hear her say the words again? Since that initial panic attack, she hadn’t voiced a single complaint. Any sacrifice she made for him was a pittance when measured against his own. 

As the months had gone by, Sakai came to realize that not only the Minbari, but she herself, owed her life to Sinclair’s altruism and concern – if he hadn’t given her his stabilizer, what would have happened when her ship struck the rift? Sinclair had told her all about Ulkesh’s reaction to her arriving on Minbar in the first place and the Vorlon’s callous response when she’d been lost. In light of this, she agreed with Jeff’s conclusion that the Vorlon might well have given her a bogus stabilizer in the hopes of seeing her dead, or at least conveniently lost someplace else in time. The fact that Kosh had to travel back, at great personal expense, to take Jeff to her, made her wonder if somehow they had changed history this time – not so much as to have significantly altered the timeline, but enough to have sparked the alien who once claimed not to be “concerned with the affairs of others” into action. Maybe in all the other yesterdays, she had gone back in time with Sinclair right from the start – maybe in another past, she had even been changed along with him. Ultimately, she had to concede that there was no sane way to really consider these conundrums, but she also began to understand why Jeff needed to believe so strongly that each and every triumph he accomplished as Valen might pass down through the centuries a little more clearly that time around. No wonder that poem had sprung into his mind. They had been there before.

To her surprise, Jeff suddenly opened his eyes, and she realized he hadn’t been sleeping at all. She felt a strange sense of guilt about analyzing him right under his nose. But since Sinclair wasn’t a telepath, he merely smiled to see her watching him and ran his hand wistfully along her face. 

Sinclair had been thinking too. He was reflecting, with almost delirious surprise, on how happy he was, and how tremendously Catherine’s presence had altered his entire perception of this new life. Nothing else had really changed – if anything, conditions had worsened. As he had mentioned to her, his forces were meeting with ever fiercer resistance from the Shadows, and while many of his social and political reforms had already taken hold among the Minbari, his cautious and roundabout questioning revealed the same opposition and hostility among the Caste Elders to anything considered “alien” that he’d noted before. Sadly, that didn’t bode well for revealing their marriage. And yet, he was happy. He found delight in things he knew he wouldn’t even have noticed before, and somehow, since she’d arrived, he felt a confidence, a sense of equilibrium he had strived and failed to find at any other point in his life. He tried, with difficulty, to remember how uncomposed and impotent he’d felt just a few short months ago. He remembered what he had thought, the things he had done, but he couldn’t quite believe them. He no longer tried to second-guess himself, didn’t analyze what he thought he might have done as Valen before; he just acted and things had worked themselves out from there. All because of Catherine.

The only pain in his life now was that he hadn’t yet solved the problem of revealing her presence to the Minbari. It was the only thing he really wanted and needed to do to achieve perfect serenity, and yet it eluded him. It was also the only issue that could still get him to wonder about what had happened before, and why it was such a mystery. 

Even before he’d had the vaguest inkling that he was Valen, back when he thought he was studying to become nothing more than Valen’s successor as Anla’shok Na and then Entil’Zha, it seemed peculiar to him that about this one area of Valen’s life, the Minbari had recorded practically nothing. All that he’d been able to learn from the ancient texts Rathenn had supplied him with was that Valen had been married to someone and subsequently raised a large family. But even the exact number of children Valen had had with this mystery woman was indeterminate. If The Grey Council knew more, Rathenn hadn’t told him and Sinclair was fairly sure he had asked, simply because it seemed like such a fundamental thing to know about a man esteemed as such a paragon. He hadn’t discussed this issue with Catherine for one very strong reason, and it was his sole remaining fear. What if the woman Valen had children with wasn’t Catherine? What would that mean? He had no idea if he and Catherine even could conceive a child between them now; in fact, they’d simply ignored the entire possibility because it seemed so remote. He was more Minbari than Human now, and just prior to his entering the Chrysalis, his body had taken a tremendous shock from all of the unprotected time traveling he had done. During the course of his career with Earth Force, he’d been exposed to all kinds of radiation effects, alien diseases, chemicals, Recycled Air Syndrome, changes in gravity; who knew what else? As a deep space planetary surveyor, Catherine had come into contact with many of the same risks, and she'd spent more time in prolonged zero-gravity conditions than he ever had. Plus, they weren’t exactly kids any more. So who thought about it? Well, he laughed to himself, I guess I am now. He opened his eyes and found that Catherine was watching him. What the hell could she possibly see in him anyway?

“Catherine?” Sinclair asked softly.  
“Yes?”  
“Are you happy? I mean, I know you can’t be happy about being trapped in the house all the time, about being kept a secret, but…” She put her fingers to his lips and silenced him.  
“Yes.” 

It was one of those moments, as when she’d accepted his marriage proposal on Babylon 5, that he experienced as a sensory overload. His euphoria overwhelmed his brain, and Sinclair well knew that something invariably stupid would come out of his mouth.  
“Yeah? Okay, well, uh, good then.”   
There was a long silence as she snuggled up against him. He looked down at her, fondled one of her breasts absently and thought for a moment.   
“I wonder if the damn planet would stop spinning if I took the day off. What do you think?”  
“I’m fairly sure that when the Minbari say their lives orbit around the teachings of Valen, they’re exaggerating just a little bit,” she smiled, playing along.  
“You think so? Maybe we should expose that theory to an empirical test.”  
“That would be the appropriate scientific protocol.”  
“All right then. In the interests of science, I’m staying put.”  
“There you go again, that ‘grey spirit, seeking knowledge.’”  
“Can’t help it. I’m a curious man.”  
“That you are.”  
“Hey!” She turned around and laughed with him, and then they spooned up close together and settled back on the bed and let the quiet sound of the other’s breathing lull them to sleep.


	20. Doubletake

\-- 19 --  
\-- DOUBLETAKE--

“Draal! That was not polite – I was trying to look away and you deliberately kept me there. I realize your perspective on many matters has changed since you merged with The Great Machine, but have you no sense of reverence?”  
“Ah, but Delenn, I thought you would be curious as to where you began. That was the morning your great-great-grandmother many times back was conceived." Delenn turned her head to look at Draal in surprise.   
“Then it is true – I had been told, I saw the records, but, but I did not quite believe….”  
“The Humans have a saying, I think it is ‘I saw it with my own two eyes?’”  
“But Draal, wait -- no one on Minbar yet knew about Sakai? Surely she and Jeffrey did not manage to raise a family in secret? I know there are no entries about this period in Valen’s life – that is what brought me here in the first place, but…”  
“What were you taught in Temple about the Humans, my dear? When and where did you get the idea that their babies are only begotten at convenient times? Then again, who is to say what is convenient? If you were able to see what I have seen, travel to the places The Great Machine has taken me, Delenn, ah … The truth is, everything happens in its own time. This was the time. In fact, without the child we just saw them unwittingly create, it is not only you who would not be here. So much will move forward from this moment in time, Delenn! It is astonishing really, when I reflect upon it, how such a carefree moment; two lovers, thinking of nothing more complex than satisfying the other’s desires could be so momentous… If I were you, I would look back at your friend again and share his brief joy. Soon nothing will ever be as simple as it was for him then. For any of us.”


	21. Housekeeping

\-- 20 --  
\-- HOUSEKEEPING --

Catherine was puzzled to awake later to an empty bed and an unfamiliar smell emanating from the direction of the kitchen wing. She got up and headed to the bathroom, and was concerned when she discovered Jeff wasn’t there either. Had some sort of crisis arisen that had forced him to alter their plans? And what was that smell? Disappointed, she dressed, and with great reluctance pulled on her accustomed disguise – a heavy white robe with a voluminous white hood. Sakai piled her hair up carefully in a bun, pulled the hood on over her head, and walked to the dining room to see what Rathmer was apparently burning for her breakfast. On this day, it felt entirely natural to slump in her seat and keep her head down – why hadn’t Sinclair at least left her a note? She wasn’t certain if she was more angry than worried or the other way around.

“Hey! What are you doing up?” She looked up in surprise at the sound of Sinclair’s voice, saw him in the kitchen doorway with a precariously balanced pile of plates in his hands. Although he’d spoken in English, she was so used to sitting in this room in silence that she struggled to respond.  
“Where’s Rathmer?” she whispered.  
“What? Oh! I gave the staff the day off – threatened their lives, actually.” He set the pile of dishes on the table, then dealt them out like playing cards. “I told them there’d be more than a little hell to pay if I saw anyone at all on the grounds for the next 24 hours. I even managed to get rid of Zathras – and that’s not easy. They think I’ve got some sort of meditative retreat planned here, which I suppose isn’t too far from the truth. I didn’t think you’d wake up for another hour or so – there goes my surprise. Uh oh – something’s burning again – I’ll be right back.” He dashed back through the door and Catherine rose and followed him.  
“What exactly is it you’ve been trying to make here?” she asked, looking around the disordered room.   
“Well, you have to remember, I haven’t cooked for myself in … five years? And then trying to make substitutions with Minbari ingredients …” he turned from the stove holding a blackened pan, looked down into it and laughed – a deep, resonant laugh such as Sakai had not heard from him in years. “I think these were supposed to be pancakes, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure.” Catherine smiled, carefully took the pan from him with a kiss, and brought it over to the sink to scrub it out. “How about eggs? I’m fairly sure I still can make scrambled eggs.”  
“Can you take the honest truth here, Jeff? I’ve always thought that the eggs they get from Minbari birds taste pretty disgusting.”  
“Who said anything about Minbari eggs?” he asked, moving to a storage unit,  
“Valen’s Law Number One – when stealing a space station, always wait until the day before it goes on line so it’s fully stocked!” Proudly, he held aloft a pair of chicken eggs. “Law Number Two is to always steal the largest available station so that you get the largest possible variety of restaurant supplies. A convenient adjunct to Laws One and Two, I might add, is that you also get some enormously powerful guns and ships to go along with the eggs! Comes in handy when you’re leading an army.”  
“I never realized when I first accepted your proposal that I was agreeing to marry the galaxy’s most nefarious brigand,” she joked, handing him back the pan.  
“Too late now – you’re an accessory and accomplice to the greatest hijacking that ever was – or will be. There’s some coffee brewing over there if you want it. Actual coffee, if you can believe it; I figured we'd splurge today.” Sinclair resumed cooking. “So my main idea for the day was to head out to the garden and do absolutely nothing. How does that sound?”  
“Too good to be true?”  
“I was hoping you’d agree with that plan. Now get out of here so I can pretend to surprise you with breakfast.”

Sakai had grown paranoid since she’d moved to Minbar with Sinclair. She insisted that he check the entire premises before she was willing to step outside the front door without a disguise. Even after he gave her the “all clear,” it still made her nervous to stand in the sunlight, and she kept turning around and checking behind her as she followed him, despite the tall trees, dense bushes and large wall around the compound. The setting had been one of the things Sinclair and Sakai had liked best about Tuzanor when they’d first moved there in ’59 – every home, every office, every shop, was surrounded by its own lush park. 

They brought a blanket and some pillows with them and spread them out in the dappled sunlight under a tree. Alongside ran a small stream in which tiny blue Minbari crystal fish swam. Catherine lay down on her back and closed her eyes, soaking up the warm sun as if she had never felt such a thing upon her body before, for it was a rare occasion indeed in which she was outdoors. Sinclair had brought along a book of Minbari folk tales that he wanted to read, but soon he too relinquished himself to the more hedonistic pursuit of being completely idle. The weather was perfect; blue skies, warm temperatures without a trace of humidity, and best of all, no one else in sight.

“The only thing that’s missing, “ said Sakai dreamily, “is a big pitcher of frozen margaritas.”  
“Hmm. Don’t think that would be such a great idea – alcohol makes Minbari psychotic and I’m not about to find out whether that’s true for me or not. We might have some dehydrated lemonade though.”  
“One of us would have to get up and make it, wouldn’t we?”  
“Mm hmm.”  
“Oh well.” They looked at each other, shrugged and smiled.

Sinclair moved just enough to lay his head on her chest, closed his eyes again and thought lazy thoughts.  
“You know, this is the first time in four years I’ve taken a day off?”  
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” she asked him, languidly stroking his face.  
“Hey – cut me a little slack here, okay? I did just drop in during the midst of the first Shadow War. Seriously, I think I’ve developed a better sense of balance, Catherine – I only hope things fall into place enough so that I get the chance to show you that it’s true.”  
“I believe you, “ she insisted, “the old Jeffrey Sinclair would never have done anything as spontaneously aimless as this.”  
“Don’t forget ‘the old Jeffrey Sinclair’ had superiors who could have court martialed him for dereliction of duty if they’d wanted. You know, I think that’s the part about being Valen I really enjoy? Not having to answer to anyone, just making my own plans and executing them. No more late night calls to grovel before some Senator who really couldn’t give a damn, no unreasonable foreign Ambassadors to get in the way … if I didn’t have to keep you a secret, things would be just about perfect.”  
“Are you sure you're Jeffrey Sinclair? Because I’ve never heard you talk like this before.” He took one of her hands in his own and gripped it tightly, pulled it to his lips and kissed it.  
“Yes, I’m sure. Now that you’re here, I’m sure. Have I told you lately how much I love you?”  
“Yes, but don’t let that stop you from doing it again,” she smiled.  
“I really love you, Catherine Sakai.” There was a long, contented silence between them. “I wonder how the Second Shadow War will turn out for Delenn and Sheridan. I left them a strong Ranger network but there were strange things happening with Earth too. It's frustrating to have left in the middle of a story and not know how it ends.”  
“Do you think about Earth a lot? I find I do, which is funny since I spent most of my time out in space on the Sky Dancer. I miss the cities, all the people ...”  
“I'm sorry about the isolation ...”  
“I wasn't looking for an apology; I chose to stay. Besides even if I were allowed to walk openly here, I'd still miss other humans from time to time. I just wondered whether you think about Earth much.”  
“Rarely. Same with Mars. But I think about Babylon 5 all the time.” Sakai nodded in understanding. Of all the places he'd been, the station had always meant the most to Sinclair.  
“You stay here and relax, Jeff. I’m going to go inside and put together some lunch for us, all right?” When he nodded in agreement without protest and sat back down under the tree, Catherine had to shake her head dubiously. He really had changed.

Fifteen minutes later, as she walked through the front door with their lunch in hand, Catherine stopped in surprise, hearing Jeff’s voice speaking Lenn-ah, the Warrior Caste language, to someone as yet unseen. She put the food down and crept up behind the bushes to get a look at what was going on.

Much to her alarm, she saw Valen standing in a position of tense readiness, right beside the stream, with his denn’bok drawn. She moved again and saw his opponent, who was the largest Minbari she had ever seen. The stranger looked to be about 6’5”, had forearms that made Valen’s own powerful muscles look like toothpicks, and was dressed in the all-black uniform of the Warrior Caste, his garb studded with metal ornaments that somehow looked more than just decorative. He too had his fighting pike out, and as he suddenly swung at Valen, Catherine gasped aloud, uncertain whether she should remain hidden or retrieve her own weapon and join in her husband’s battle. She knew, as all the Rangers of her day did, that Sinclair had trained with Minbar’s foremost Twenty-Third Century master of the denn’bok, Sech Durhan, but she’d never seen him fight before. She was not to be disappointed. Not until the bitter end of the confrontation, when she would discover the full extent of Sinclair’s change.

“A sneak attack is the first resort of a coward!” Valen growled, “Had I known you to be so craven that you would break into a man’s own compound and try to assault him while he was at rest, I would have killed you the last time we met, Kadenn,” Valen continued. “I give you one chance to leave here disgraced but alive,” he finished, parrying Kadenn’s furious volley of blows.   
“You … arrogant bastard, Valen. We have had enough of your … meddling … who do you think you are anyway…” Kadenn retorted between attacks. 

Superficially, it looked like Kadenn had Valen beaten from the start – the latter man appeared to be stumbling, awkward, groaned loudly as he parried with his pike. But Valen’s strategy was already obvious to Catherine. She recognized it from the days when they had fenced together at the Academy. Each time Kadenn struck at him, he stepped back, gave ground, created the appearance of submission. In fact, he was avoiding the blows, saving his energy, encouraging his stronger opponent to wear himself out and bettering his own odds for success once he chose to counterattack. 

“’We’? Do you speak for the entire Wind Swords clan, or merely for yourself, Kadenn?” As he finished speaking, Valen failed to parry one of Kadenn’s thrusts. It grazed him across the midsection and Valen howled loudly, as if in excruciating pain. But again, Valen stepped had back and avoided the full brunt of the blow.  
“I speak for all my Clan, as you would know if you had one!” Kadenn fired back, following this proclamation with a particularly creative invective, and then suddenly, with his opponent blinded by rage and caught utterly off-guard; Valen launched a vicious assault.

Watching him mercilessly beat the other man to the ground, Catherine couldn’t believe she was witnessing the same man who had made such gentle love to her that morning. Blow after blow fell at Kadenn from all sides, and Valen made it look as easy as a dance. She’d seen plenty of bouts at the Academy and while training as a Ranger, but never before had she observed anything like this. Valen fought as if he were possessed by some demonic, savage force. Several times Catherine had to look away from the obscene violence he rained down on the larger man. What stunned her most of all was how, once he had disarmed Kadenn, Valen retracted his pike, casually tossed it aside, and finished his concussive assault with his bare hands. Kadenn’s blood sprayed throughout the garden, and Valen himself was positively drenched in the stuff, his dark eyes glaring out madly from a face covered with gore. She almost felt badly for the broken warrior who finally lay motionless at Valen’s feet. 

Valen reached down and tore the emblem of the Wind Swords from Kadenn’s uniform. As Sakai crept from the bushes and approached, he was shaking out his right hand. Valen’s expression turned from murderous to almost sheepish as he saw her move forward, and he tried futilely to wipe some of the blood off his face and onto his sleeve.

“Jeff! Are you all right?” she demanded in concern.  
“Fine, I’m just fine,” he insisted, looking at his hand. “Excuse me. I’ve some housekeeping to attend to.” He knelt down, checked for his unconscious victim’s pulse, then picked Kadenn’s body up over his shoulders and heavily made his way to the front gate. Kicking the door open with the toe of his boot, he threw Kadenn’s body out as if it were a bag of trash, then closed and barred the door. Catherine was stunned into silence as he returned to her side.

“I think I may have broken my hand,” he said, then looked to Catherine and misinterpreted her expression. “It’s okay, Catherine, I’ll be fine. I brought a first aid kit back with me from Babylon 4 – I didn’t want to have to take any chances with the primitive medical techniques of this era.”  
“What, what happened?”  
“After you left for the house, I turned over to watch the fish. I detected a strange glint, a reflection of some kind, in the water. I leapt to my feet and saw Kadenn had been standing over me, his pike drawn, about to cave in the back of my neck. What did you miss after that?”  
“Nothing, I’m afraid.”  
“Catherine,” he began to reach for her arms, then looked at the blood on his hands and held them up in resignation. “I’m sorry that you had to see that. I’m really sorry that this had to put an end to our day together, but obviously, this assault by Kadenn against me must be announced and addressed at once. I’ll make it up to you soon, I promise.” He knelt down in the wet grass and retrieved his gory denn’bok. “Come with me back inside? I may need some help getting changed and cleaned up.” They both looked down at his swollen hand. Silently, Sakai led the way to the house and locked the door behind them.

Once in the bedroom, she carefully helped Valen from his bloody clothes, and found she had to struggle to keep from throwing up. How could anyone have lost that much blood and lived? She knew that the Minbari could lose a great deal more plasma than Humans could before being in mortal danger, but still …it seemed like there were gallons of the stuff on Valen’s clothes, and it was all Kadenn’s. Had Kadenn lived? She was afraid to hear the answer. The Jeffrey Sinclair she knew never would have continued to assault someone once he’d had him disarmed and subdued. What was going on here? Had she finally seen the real Valen? She wasn’t sure she liked him.

As they peeled the last of his clothes off, she discovered that a lot more blows than she’d thought had struck Valen. None of them had broken his skin, but numerous bruises were flowering across his body.

“I’ll go get the medical kit,” she said remotely, and Valen reached for her as she turned away.  
“Catherine…”  
“Don’t touch me!” she ordered, and obediently, he froze. “Don’t touch me.” As she left the room, Valen saw he’d left a bloody handprint on her upper arm.  
When Sakai returned, she found Valen in the shower, awkwardly scrubbing at his skin with his left hand. She felt terribly conflicted seeing him there, naked and disabled, and yet standing in a pool of reddish water. She waited silently until he was done, then stepped forward to him with a towel and a bag filled with ice.

“I couldn’t find the medical kit, so I brought you this,” she informed him, her voice cold.  
“That’s okay, I’ll look for it. Thanks,” he said, accepting her offering. Valen studied her face again and frowned. “Catherine, what’s wrong?”  
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that I saw you beat a man to death with your bare hands, that’s what’s wrong.”  
“He’s not dead,” Valen said in annoyance. “And it was self-defense anyway.”   
“It’s not that you defended yourself, it’s what you did afterwards, all right? Yes, you had to stop him, maybe even hurt him badly. I’m not arguing that point. But to pummel him so hard you broke your own bones? You’d already knocked the weapon from his hand, and I could hear his wrist break as you did it! I just can’t believe I saw you do that. That’s not how you taught us Rangers to fight. Maybe, maybe I don’t know who you’ve become at all. Maybe I don’t want to, Valen.” Valen narrowed his eyes, found himself replying to her in Lenn-ah, not English.   
“Catherine, I can understand that you found it disturbing to watch me fight like that, but I think you forget the times we live in. There’s a war going on out there the likes of which I hope you never can conceive. And it’s not just a war with the Shadows either. It’s a war for the direction this planet takes over the next thousand years. It may be unfortunate, but the most effective way for me to gain the respect and authority I need in order to change things is for me to stop thinking like a Jesuit and start to act more like the people around me. I can’t succeed by just talking about peace and compromise all the time. I need to generate a little fear of me too, no, not a little fear, a lot of fear. That’s my job. That’s the destiny ahead of me. It’s just the way things are going to be. 

“Kadenn has just given me the excuse I needed in order to allow members of the Religious Caste to join my army. I had no idea he was going to try to kill me, but I’m going to seize the opportunity his attempt has provided. If he'd attacked any of the other Warrior clan leaders the way he just did me, there would be armies lined up all across The City of Sorrows ready to fight the infamous battle that earned Tuzanor that name all over again. That I spared his life and haven’t declared war is going to have a tremendous impact. But I also had to make it clear just how easily I could have killed him, if I'd chosen. Catherine,” he said, sitting down on the bed with a heavy sigh and returning to their native tongue. “Years ago, on B5, the Dilgar war criminal Jha’Dur confronted me. The Wind Swords had been secretly hiding her since the end of the war. She said that they often spoke about me to her, and that while they feared me, they also described me as being ‘sentimental,’ which she and they both saw as a ‘fatal flaw in a warrior.’ Obviously, I don’t believe that myself, but it gives me insight into how the Wind Swords think. It didn’t matter then, Catherine, if they thought Sinclair was weak. It does matter now what they think about Valen.

“Before I can create and lead The Grey Council, I have to become grey first myself – I need to forge a path somewhere between the violence and chaos the Shadows represent and the blind obedience the Vorlons want. I need to be in the middle, to stand between the Darkness and the Light. Can you understand that?”  
“Yes,” she said reluctantly, “yes I suppose I can. It’s just that as I watched you, you became someone else; for the first time, I didn’t see you as Jeffrey Sinclair at all. You were just Valen, and for me anyway, you’ve met your goal – right now, I’m very afraid of Valen,” Sakai saw his expression turn to one of soulful pain at those words, but she felt she had to continue. “Even when I first saw you on Babylon 4, I knew you; I didn’t really think of you as changed inside. So to see it today frightened me.” She sat down beside him and reached out to hold the ice on his distorted hand, “I’m not sure how to deal with this, Jeff. I’ll figure it out, but it may take me a while.”  
“Well, something about it frightened me too, Cath. I think I really enjoyed hurting him. I certainly didn’t expect that reaction from myself – especially since it’s the very reason I wouldn’t let Kadenn join the Rangers! I thought I’d released that kind of anger a long time ago – back on Mars before I took the assignment as C.O. of Babylon 5, in fact. Somehow though, in the middle of that altercation … I don’t know, I guess it was the threat to you he represented that set me off – it was as if I was fighting the Earth-Minbari War all over again. ” He paused and sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you the whole story about what happened to me, have I?” Sakai looked at him in surprise – she assumed he had. “There was an incident on Babylon 5 … I figured that you must have heard some gossip from your clients or in the Zocalo, maybe even from Garibaldi?” She shook her head slowly from side to side. “I suppose if you had, you would have asked me about it … well, you know I was always reluctant to talk about the War anyway … Cath, my memory came back. I found out what happened after I targeted that cruiser on The Line.” He fell silent, weighing whether he really wanted to dredge the pain up again, whether he really wanted to talk about it, whether Catherine really needed to hear it.   
“It has something to do with you and Delenn, doesn’t it?” He turned to her, thunderstruck.  
“How, how did you know … I’ve never told anyone…”  
“Well, since we got back together Jeff, you’ve … you’ve called out her name once or twice in your sleep. And the way you said it … it didn’t sound like you were dreaming about station business.”  
“No,” he insisted in disbelief.  
“Yes.”  
“Oh my God, Catherine, I’m so sorry…”  
“Don’t take it like that, Jeff. I mean, I’d hate to think of some of the names I may have mentioned in my sleep. “It’s just, as I said to you before, I always got a peculiar feeling about what your relationship with her really was. Were you lovers?” Sakai asked quietly. Sinclair shook his head in denial.  
“No, it was more complicated than that. We weren't lovers, but … yes, I loved her.” He leaned back in the bed. “She came to me on Mars. You and I had one of our stupid blow-ups about six weeks before and she showed up at my quarters to talk to me about the opportunity to run Babylon 5. I was furious – I didn't believe her – I wanted to kill her – she was a Minbari after all – and the next thing I knew she was apologizing to me. I was possessed, haunted by all of the things I had felt and seen and experienced during the War; all of those things I used to refuse to admit to you, and then suddenly instead of being a prisoner to it, I was in control because she was begging me for forgiveness. It was the last thing I'd ever expected, and it turned out to be the one thing I really needed. I fell for her then and there. It was so mysterious.”  
“What about The Line?”  
“Well, it wasn't until years later that I found out what she'd had done to me ….” He sighed. “I didn’t tell you about it when it happened, but I was kidnapped on Babylon 5 – two men – they put me into a cybernet, pumped me full of drugs. They were trying to prove – no surprise here – that I’d betrayed Earth during the War.” Catherine nodded sympathetically, quite familiar with that slander. “Well the whole incident brought back my memories from The Line – pieces of it anyway. I remembered …. The Grey Council hit my ship with a tractor beam and brought me aboard their cruiser. Someone said something about bathing the Council floor with my blood. Maybe that image is what’s bringing all of this up now,” he suggested, looking over at the pile of gory clothing he had shed. “Well, they did. They tortured me, actually crucified me. At some point, I awoke to find myself in a painful circle of light, dazed, bleeding, surrounded by all these faceless figures. As I remember it, I staggered forward to one of them and pulled their hood back and …” he paused, remembering. Catherine could see it in his face. “It was Delenn. That was the first time we met,” he snorted an ironic laugh. “I didn't know that on Mars, but she did. She wasn't just apologizing in the abstract for the War, she was remorseful for things she'd actually had done to me, things she thought I'd never recollect. I guess she couldn't live with herself once she suspected I was Valen. I think that's who she needed penance from, but it was the words Sinclair needed to hear. See, the Minbari and I have never had a linear relationship,” he cracked. “Delenn and I never even discussed it with each other. That's how intimate a secret it was.” He sat back up and stared at his wounded hand. “Here I was just thinking this morning about how having you with me has brought me such peace, and listen to me! I still can’t let go of it all – of the War, of Delenn – and what’s worse is I just beat the hell out of someone and enjoyed doing it? What’s wrong with me?” He covered his face with his left hand, trying to conceal his frustration. Wordlessly, Sakai lay down beside him, still holding the ice on his other hand, stroking his arm. Eventually, she spoke.

“I don’t know, Jeff, but overall I think you’re doing pretty well considering all the circumstances. Nobody expects you to be perfect … except for you. And the Minbari. And I guess I did too, or I wouldn’t have been so upset. Okay, so everyone does expect you to be perfect. But we’re all wrong, okay?” They smiled feebly at each other as he drew his hand away from his eyes. “I’m sorry I got so angry with you; that I walked away and tried to shut you out. Old habits are hard to break, I guess.” She fell silent, thinking. “Do you think that maybe you’ve been angry with Delenn all of these years and that today you just took it out on the nearest Minbari?”   
“No, I think … I’d better not say anything else.”  
“Jeff…”  
“Trust me. I’ve hurt enough people already today.”  
“You miss her, don’t you?” Catherine inquired gently. “She used you, she abused you, but you still miss her.”  
“I miss a lot of things,” he dismissed. “Don’t make me say it, Catherine. Why do you want me to say things that can only hurt the both of us?”  
“Jeff, I know you. How could anything you’d have to say be all that bad?”  
“Fine, all right, you want to hear it? You really want to hear it?” His face was contorted with discomfort. “I don't care what she did to me on that cruiser. In the end she healed me. The whole thing, strange as it was, was one of the best things that ever happened to me and I still love her for it.”  
“If she were here, would you choose her over me?”  
“Good God, no! How could you even…”  
“So what’s the problem? What are you feeling so guilty about? You can care for more than one person at the same time; and hell, she's nine hundred years away. It’s not a big deal.” Sinclair was silent for a long time, closed his eyes, sighed, and fidgeted with the sheets on the bed.   
“Catherine, what would I do without you?”  
“I don’t know, but you have me, so don’t worry about it.” She kissed him long and hard, wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes. “On the other hand, how long do you think we have before someone discovers Kadenn?”  
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they already have. But I don’t think anyone is going dare to come and approach me about it. I think my hand is a more immediate problem. Damn, it really hurts.”  
“Come on,” she urged him, as she sat back up, “Help me find that medical kit, we’ll fix you up, get you into some fresh clothes and we’ll go report Kadenn’s assault.”  
“What do you mean, we’ll report…”  
“I’ll keep my head down. I doubt anyone is going to be terribly interested in me right now. And having a witness might be useful for you.”  
“How do I explain that you were here when I sent everyone else away? People will get suspicious.”  
“Say you were teaching me about some religious ritual. You worry too much.”  
“You don’t worry enough.” They caught each other’s eyes and would have laughed if the circumstances weren’t so grim. Over the years, they’d probably delivered those lines more than any words besides “I love you.”  
“Hold on now, didn’t you mean it when I was upset and you said we’d work everything out? So now it’s my turn to be annoyingly prescient. We’ll work it all out.” She kissed him again and headed to the laundry for some clothes.


	22. Another Broken Window

\-- 21 --  
\--ANOTHER BROKEN WINDOW--

“In Valen’s Name!” Delenn exclaimed out of habit. “He understood, Draal, he understood!”   
“Did you expect anything less, Delenn?”   
“No,” she said slowly, “but I didn't know if he'd remembered, if he'd piece it all together. But this propensity for violence … I'm as shocked as Catherine Sakai was.”  
“Really? Do you know how many fist fights Sinclair was involved in on Babylon 5? Nearly one a month, I believe. But then it must be difficult for you to acknowledge that Valen was more than the Religious Caste texts have led you to believe. They did not teach you that Valen could be a complex and dangerous man, a warrior, as much in the world as he was above it. The Warrior Caste finds it easier to accept that Valen was a Holy Man than it is for you to accede to his violence. A Holy War, led by such a man is a simple thing, really. A vengeful priest with a guilty conscience is something entirely different. You’re doing your best not to really listen to Sinclair because some of his words challenge your understanding of him as Valen. At some point, Delenn, you will have to put both sides of him together, accept all of the things Sinclair thought of and did as the beliefs and actions of Valen as well. 

“Perhaps his wife was right when she accused him of going too far – or perhaps she was not. Only two generations had passed since one million Minbari had slain one another in The City of Sorrows. Sinclair was accurate when he assessed our ancestors as being a highly confrontational, violent people. A man of peace who wasn’t also a fearsome warrior would not have impressed them. This struggle between spirit and flesh, infinite forgiveness and nearly complete rage is one Valen had to wrestle with for many years. And as you can see, Catherine Sakai found this a difficult task as well. But it must be done if you truly wish to know what became of him. And it is not the only dichotomy he had to resolve either. First he had to decide: was he Sinclair or Valen? Who was he? What did he want? Where was it all leading him? These are difficult questions, as you well know. The answers he reached may not be the same as your own. Are you certain you wish to know them?” Draal paused. “Are you? Are you really?” Delenn turned away, thinking carefully.  
“Yes, Draal – show me. Show me the rest.”


	23. Yet Another Look

\-- 22 --  
\--YET ANOTHER LOOK--

Catherine walked several paces behind Valen, her head bowed lowly and her features well concealed behind a hood she had modified so that it securely covered the sides of her face and her forehead. He strode into the meeting hall where the members of the Council of Elders often sat when they were not officially in session. Even before he spoke he drew their attention merely by his presence and the way he carried himself, a skill that he'd mastered long ago. Valen walked directly up to the Warrior Caste’s representatives, drew his bloodstained denn’bok from his belt, extended it, and threw it down on the ground in front of them. 

Even Catherine was taken aback by this dramatic gesture – Warrior Caste members and Rangers alike prized their weapons, which were usually made to individual specifications. Sinclair's had been presented to him by Sech Durhan himself, shortly after he’d been named as Minbar’s first Entil'Zha since Valen. It was a gesture that had intensified his resolve to continue with the mission in the wake of losing Sakai. For Durhan to have made such a personal gesture, for what it said about his trust and confidence in Sinclair, meant more to Jeff than the fact that The Nine and the Vorlons had entrusted him with the Rangers. 

So despite her initial surprise, Sakai understood what Sinclair was feeling now, because she knew Sinclair was thinking that he had breached Durhan’s trust when he’d used that gift to try to kill Kadenn. Durhan would never have given Sinclair his denn’bok had he known what would be done with it. He would never have instructed him in the art of being Anla’shok if he’d known Sinclair remained so bitter over the War between their people that he would try to exact revenge for it even after he himself became Minbari. So Sinclair was renouncing any right to possess it, as well as discarding the lingering anger over the Earth-Minbari War that had inflamed and provoked him earlier in the day. Yes, this was expected behavior from Sinclair. But as for what Valen would say or do next…? Sakai waited nervously with the rest of the group. 

Valen marked time until the pike stopped clattering against the stone floor before he began to speak.

“There is blood now between myself and Kadenn of the Family Chadel. And,” he continued, in Lenn-ah, tossing down the emblem he had torn from Kadenn’s shoulder, “there is blood between me and the Wind Swords. The den’sha has been fought, and the victory is mine. Thus I claim the right to speak.” All eyes moved from the tokens at Valen’s feet to his face. His jaw set like iron, Valen did not wait for permission, but continued his address. “As my young student here can confirm, I was engaged in private meditation in my garden when Kadenn broke into that place and did attempt to murder me. At such time as he may recover enough to speak, you may ask him about how I bested him with my bare hands. But, in truth, it is not this matter which brings me to you, but prophecy.” He paused, turned away, took a few paces and then turned back, building up the suspense.

“Know now that this is the final den’sha which will be fought for at least ten centuries,” he proclaimed to their amazement, speaking in the Religious Caste tongue of Adrinato. “I have spared Kadenn’s life as a message to all of Minbar that the days when we might fight among ourselves and slaughter one another must now come to an end. Should any disobey this prophecy, they will jeopardize the very existence of Minbar and the course that The Universe has set out for us to follow. Speak to your people and let them know they will bring Valen’s wrath upon them if any so much as threatens to harm another Minbari. Henceforth, it is only the Shadows and their allies whom we shall fight, and all shall know that Minbari do not kill Minbari. 

“Know also that Kadenn did swear he spoke for all of the Wind Sword Clan. I, Valen, swear to you now, that for the duration of the current War against the Darkness, no member of that Clan may any longer fight in my name, nor with the great gifts that I brought to you nearly four cycles ago. Henceforth, those men and women of the Religious Caste, whose names carry with them high repute and honor, and who may feel the Calling of their Hearts beckons them to fight in this battle, may serve beneath me in their stead. This is what I have foreseen. Heed my words carefully.” He turned away again, gestured to Sakai to follow him, and left the pike, the Elders and the room behind.

The two traveled in utter silence on the way back home, each lost in their own thoughts about the events of that strange day. Sakai focused not on the battle that had disturbed her so greatly that afternoon, but on the presentation Valen had just made to the Clan Elders. There was no hesitation in her mind when she thought of it as being delivered by Valen – he hadn’t spoken at all like Sinclair, certainly not the Sinclair she’d known for fifteen years. He had been so strangely formal, so distant, and so resolutely declarative. The very nature of Minbar’s languages, particularly the Religious Caste tongue in which he had spoken, fostered that impression, but there was something more to it than that. She saw now why the Minbari believed everything he told them. Sinclair, like herself, like most mortals, was full of uncertainty, always thinking, always analyzing; even when he stated a point of fact, there was an acknowledgment of his own limitations in the way he spoke. It seemed that for Valen, there were none. When Valen vocalized something, he did so like a Vorlon. Both Valen and the Vorlons spoke with the knowledge that their every oration reflected some greater truth, and that each and every phrase, word, syllable and glottalization would be parsed, discussed, repeated and believed. You couldn’t very well have a friendly chat with someone like that, and, Sakai wondered, could you ever really approach him, sleep with him, live with him? Would you want to? No wonder Sinclair had lamented to her of the utter solitude he had endured before she’d arrived.

They entered their empty house, and Sinclair threw off his coat and sank onto the small couch in his office with a groan.

“How does your hand feel?”  
“Stiff, sore, but I think we did a passable job fixing it. Fortunately, I don’t think I did any nerve damage.”  
“That’s good.” The quiet that fell between them spoke of their mutual awkwardness with each other in the wake of the day’s events. Sadly, Sinclair rose and began to walk to the bedroom. “Jeff – wait,” Sakai called to him. “Let me put some dinner together for you.” He smiled faintly.  
“If you don’t mind, I'd love that.” He followed her as far as the dining room, collapsed in a chair, his arms folded atop the table, and lay his head down on them wearily. Sakai grabbed a spare chair and used it to prop open the kitchen door. “So, what’d’ya think? Pretty slick the way I ‘make prophecy,’ huh? It’s easy when you can simply tell someone what you know is true and they go ahead and make certain it happens for you.” Sakai was surprised to hear him describe it that way, although, in a manner of speaking, she realized that was exactly how it worked. But then, that was not the manner of speaking in which he had delivered his prognostication as Valen.  
“You had me convinced,” she replied, not meaning it as lightly as she tried to make it sound.  
“Yeah, right,” Sinclair said, rising slowly and coming up behind her to kiss the back of her neck as she worked at the counter. “I hope you aren’t still angry with me for the way I lost my temper … I can see now this is something I’ll have to think about further.” Sakai turned around, put her arms across his shoulders and regarded Sinclair closely, seeing the desperation in his eyes. He had the same features as Valen, the identical semi-circle of bone flaring from the sides of his head, but otherwise, they were two completely different men. Valen was confident, self-assured, and needed no one. Sinclair was the one who had doubts, who needed her, needed her more than she could ever have imagined. Luckily for him, he was the one she loved and needed herself.  
“Don’t worry about it, Jeff, really – I think I have everything in the proper perspective now. Go on – sit down – you’ve earned it. I don’t mind playing chef for you tonight … but tomorrow, Rathmer can definitely have the job back!”


	24. An Unwanted Sight

\-- 23 –  
AN UNWANTED SIGHT –

Three quiet months passed after the momentous day on which Kadenn and Valen fought. Since that fight, both terror and veneration of Valen had grown exponentially, and Sakai and Sinclair seized upon that as an opportunity to finally get her out of the house. She accompanied him often now, always with her head down and following several steps behind, still play-acting the role of an adolescent male student who took notes and dictation. And since no one dared get too close to Valen, nor even to look him in the eye without explicit permission, no one inspected her too carefully either. It took all the patience she could muster to stay basically silent all day long, but it seemed a fair compromise for the relative freedom it obtained for her, and Sinclair was always careful to joke with her about the situation and to solicit her input once they were alone together at night. They were probably happier in those three months than either had been at any time before, with their home no longer a prison for Sakai, but a welcome retreat.

Kadenn had recovered slowly from his injuries. Much to Valen’s dismay however, once released from the hospital Kadenn had committed suicide. Valen insisted upon delivering an apology to his family and a eulogy at the funeral, and because of his presence, thousands attended. They listened as he reiterated his presage that no Minbari would raise his or her hand to murder another for at least a thousand years, making Kadenn something of a martyr to that principle. Since virtually the entire planet knew the circumstances surrounding Kadenn’s ignominious defeat by Valen, however, the sacrifice that took place was accredited more to Valen for staying his hand and grieving over the subsequent self-murder than to Kadenn for actually doing the dying.

The first six members of the Religious Caste to break ranks and train as Rangers alongside the Warrior Caste were well on their way. Since Valen made it his habit to drop in unannounced wherever they might be, not a single word against them was spoken aloud. Their own Elders had already made the point that Valen himself was both a religious man and a fighter, and that seemed to settle the issue for nearly everyone, except perhaps for the Wind Swords they had replaced. 

As the third month began, however, alarming news from Babylon 4 brought Valen, and, over his futile objections, Catherine Sakai to the Station itself to investigate a worsening refugee situation. Over the course of three weeks, tens of thousands of new refugees had flooded the Station. The smaller, earlier numbers of civilians had made themselves useful tending gardens in the core and performing other menial work in exchange for a relatively safe place to live, a situation which, while far from ideal was at least tenable. But the scene which greeted the couple now was something from a nightmare.

The Shadows had been on a rampage, annihilating entire planets and laying waste to them. That left Babylon 4 as the place of first as well as last resort. Refugees were living in makeshift tents throughout the core, trampling the fields and overloading the station's waste processing facilities. The pathetic assembly stretched out for nearly three miles. And while Down-Below on Babylon 5 had been crowded with the wretched refuse of the Twenty-Third Century; Valen was uncertain how to even quantify the conditions in its counterpart aboard Babylon 4, for there was vastly less crime and far more abject suffering. He was both proud and broken hearted to find the problem was not that the Minbari were hoarding space on the regular decks; most of the Anla'shok were living five or six to a single room (his own quarters of course, was the one place no one would consent to enter, even in his absence). There were simply too many people.

“For two weeks they've fed me false reports,” Sinclair complained to Sakai, “I don't know if they thought they could handle the situation without me or if they were simply afraid to tell me the truth. Zathras has been delivering the reports but he doesn't always volunteer useful information on his own and I didn't know what needed to be asked. If you hadn't overheard Tadeer and Marneer sharing rumors in the kitchen back home who knows how long the officers I left in charge would have waited to come clean! Here you and I have been living a life of luxury while this … this was going on!” Sinclair seemed close to tears as he looked out over the assembly from the window in his office, noting the hollow-eyed children, the gaunt and broken civilians, the remnants of shattered armies and the clusters of small families who were now the sole living representatives of their kind. Catherine, feeling intensely guilty for the role her mere existence played in keeping Sinclair from the front, dabbed her eyes.  
“This is devastating, Jeff. So many people with no where to go; what are you going to do?”  
“I'm at a loss, Cath. And the fighting's only going to get worse, so this could be just the first wave of asylum-seekers.” He turned from the window as he sensed someone enter the office. “Ah, just who I needed to speak to,” Valen exclaimed. 

Shai Alyt Derann wore a traditional black Warrior Caste uniform with an isil'zha pinned beside his right shoulder as a small concession to Valen's authority. The crest on his head bristled with aggressive points and ridges, and at six and a half feet tall, he towered over most, including the Entil'Zha. Sakai however, couldn't help but notice how small he became when addressed by Valen, whose expression was now a quiet and unemotional mask betraying none of what simmered just beneath the surface. Sakai retreated slowly backward. She had a small sense of what was coming next and didn't want to be caught in the crossfire.

“Derann,” Valen said softly, with perfect and menacing control, “The accounts I've been getting were authorized by you, were they not?”  
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” Derann answered, with a haughty glance that told Sakai he had not forgotten she was there.   
“And yet these status reports greatly minimized the state of affairs here and in space. You knew that the reports were intended for me, did you not?”  
“With respect, Entil'Zha,” Derann began, “under my direction, the Shadows were driven back while you were on Minbar. I assumed it was of little consequence if ...”  
“You 'assumed,' Derann?” Valen growled, stepping forward so that he and the warrior were just inches apart. “Who instructed you to assume? On what basis did you presume to limit the information that reaches me? How comprehensive is your learning, Derann? Do you understand the secrets of this Station's technology? Have you seen the face of a Vorlon? Can you tell us who will lead Minbar nine hundred and ninety years from now? Unless you share with me that type of knowledge I suggest you do not attempt to think for me again. You were selected for this post because I believed your training and experience as a Shai Alyt had taught you the importance of obedience and service, not because I needed you to think for me!” Derann swallowed hard and the color drained from his face until finally even the blue patch atop his head was white. Wordlessly, his jaw quivering with tension, he hung his head as Valen continued. “You also took it upon yourself to send Starfuries to accompany my shuttle from Minbar to the Station. Had I known of the vulnerable condition of the Station I never would have allowed it! But of course I didn't know of it, did I, Derann, because you decided to assume things for me. My plans and my agenda were based upon what I now know to be inadequate information – is that the position from which you preferred to make decisions for your Clan before I arrived? Is it?” Valen demanded, forcing Derann to speak.  
“No, Entil'Zha,” he whispered hoarsely.  
“Then I'm sure you'll agree I now find myself in a highly inappropriate position. More importantly, by speaking falsely to me, you placed not only the Station, but a hundred worlds in potential jeopardy.” Valen folded his arms across his chest and leaned away from the Shai Alyt. “It has been said that 'a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies.'” “Tennyson again?” thought Sakai, rolling her eyes. “If you would not lie outright to me, you will mouth no further half-truths. Do I make myself clear, Derann?”  
“Yes, Entil'Zha,” he mumbled  
“Because the unity of the Anla'shok will be of ever-increasing importance in the coming days, I have chosen to speak privately to you on this matter. Do not flatter yourself to think that your standing in the Warrior Caste earned you this courtesy,” Valen paused, unfolded his arms and clasped his hands behind his back. “What is the Truth, Derann?”  
“That we are one people, one voice, Entil'Zha,” Derann recited as firmly as he could manage under the circumstances. Valen eyed him silently as though he were making a difficult decision.  
“Lennier and I have some things to drop off at my quarters. Will two hours be sufficient time for you to gather the information required to deliver me a complete and accurate briefing on our status?”  
“Yes, Entil'Zha.”  
“Good. Then I will see you again here in two hours. You can fill me in and we'll tour the Station. Oh, and by the way Derann, since you took an oath to serve beneath me as Anla'shok, you might consider obtaining more appropriate attire. That will be all, thank you.” Sakai gaped at Derann's shocked expression and the speed with which he left the room.  
“That was brutal, Jeff.”  
“Yes it was,” he replied, but he was smiling faintly. “But it was nothing compared to this ...” he continued, gesturing out the window as the smile quickly faded from his face. He walked over to the desk and sat down. “Help me write a quick speech, Catherine, something uplifting.”  
“You say that like speechwriting is easy!”   
“But it is; we just have to remember a little Lincoln, maybe a little Churchill. Most of my best speeches are plagiarized,” he exaggerated. “I'm finally glad the Jesuits forced me to memorize so much back in the ninth grade.” Sakai shook her head and laughed.  
“I don't think this is what they thought you'd do with it.”  
“There's not much they can do about it now,” he smiled. “How should we start?”


	25. A Sight for Sore Eyes

– 24 –  
– A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES –

A day and a half later, his speech long since written and delivered, Sinclair rejoined Sakai in his quarters; midway though their three hour debriefing by Derann, Sakai had taken ill and had to depart. Since then, Sinclair had walked every inch of Babylon 4's six miles several times over; spoken with a seemingly endless procession of Rangers, allied alien war leaders, the occasional dock worker or janitor; inspected damage to the Station on a space walk; and then he'd entered the core and been confronted again by the sight of those thousands of dispossessed and dispirited civilians, living casualties of the War. 

Despite his easygoing attitude when he'd been with Sakai, Sinclair found himself wondering how he would ever measure up to the tasks before him. It was one thing to have read chronicles about how a single man, ages ago, had succeeded in being so many different things to so many people and another to have to live up to those reports. When Sinclair had read the ancient books about Valen he assumed that most of what was written about the Great Man had been exaggerated. The longer he lived Valen's life, however, the more he realized that what the legends had recounted were true. It scared the hell out of him.

“There you are!” Catherine greeted him, jumping up from the couch. “Where have you been?”  
“Where haven't I?” Sinclair responded, sinking into the seat she'd abandoned. “Time kind of got away from me. How are you feeling?”  
“It was just something with my stomach; I'm fine now. I wanted to rejoin you but had no idea where to find you without drawing attention to myself.”  
“Sorry about that; I was going to come check on you but one thing led to another and ... how long have I been gone anyway?”  
“Thirty six hours.” Sinclair raised his brow.  
“That long? No wonder I'm hungry and tired.” Reluctantly he arose from the couch and headed for the kitchenette. “Do we have any food?”  
“There's peanut butter and crackers. They're kind of stale.”  
“What are you talking about? It says right here 'best by 2260' – these are good for another thousand years,” he joked as he slathered a cracker with the spread. He bit it, made a face, then swallowed the rest down with a shrug.  
“So Jeff, while you've been gone, I've been thinking. You said earlier you didn't have enough colony worlds for all the refugees to go to. I don't know if it'll help any, but I can tell you where there are some marginally habitable but uninhabited worlds I discovered during my surveying days. Maybe you can move people to them temporarily?”  
“That's a great idea, Cath,” Sinclair said as he sat back down beside her on the couch with the box of crackers in one hand and a knife and the jar of peanut butter in the other. “People are already camped out here with just the bare necessities as we've seen. It wouldn't be an improvement to their lives to move from the station to an undeveloped planet, but it would help my war efforts if I was able to evacuate them from here. Good thinking.”  
“Thanks,” Sakai smiled. “And what about the First Ones – have you met any besides the Vorlons?” Sinclair quickly downed another peanut butter cracker.  
“No, The Vorlons keep promising introductions, but … why do you ask?”  
“Well … I swore not to tell you, but no one can enforce that contract now. I think I know where you can find them. But you have to promise me first you won't get angry with me.”  
“What?”   
“Promise. 'Cause I know what you're going to want to say and I don't want to hear it.” Sinclair gave her an accusing look but finally nodded his head. “Okay. You'll want to go to Sigma 957. There are ancients there with hugely powerful ships. The wake from one of them sent me into a death spiral into the planet's upper atmosphere -- I almost died but I don't think they even noticed I was there.”  
“How'd you get out?”  
“The Narn. G'Kar sent rescue ships to find me. He warned me not to go there but you know I don't respond well to people telling me what to do ….”  
“G'Kar, Ambassador G'Kar warned you off? Rescued you?”  
“I know – after the story you told me about his role in your trial I could hardly believe it. But I couldn't tell you about his generosity without telling you where I'd been and I was under contract with Universal Terraform. And you would have lectured me.”  
“Yes, I probably would have.”  
“Probably? It's killing you right now!”  
“A little, yeah.”  
“A lot, and we both know it!”  
“Look, do you want me to keep this promise or don't you?”

The doorbell chimed and the impending argument ended as Catherine hurried to find and put on her usual disguise.   
“Come,” Sinclair instructed. In hurried Zathras, who was even more agitated than usual.  
“The One and The One Wife, come now, quickly!” he exclaimed.  
“What is it Zathras?” Zathras squealed and rubbed his hands together.  
“Refugee problem, solved it is! Come see, come see!” Sinclair exchanged a quizzical glance with Sakai and the two followed the alien into the hall. After a few yards they were joined by Derann, who was wearing a new Ranger uniform.   
“Entil'Zha – you've heard? I was only just coming to get you.”  
“Zathras here says it's something about the refugee situation.”  
“Yes, Entil'Zha. I know it sounds incredible, but … your speech, Entil'Zha! Once again, you have influenced people in ...” the warrior paused, choosing his words carefully, “ways some might call miraculous.”  
“There is nothing miraculous about anything I ...” Valen began to protest.  
“But there is, Entil'Zha,” Derann insisted against his own instincts, “here – hear it for yourself!” They entered Valen's office and Derann gestured to a small alien who bowed as soon as they came within sight. His facial features were flattened and the back of his head was covered with a random pattern of indented circular rings. Valen recognized him from his term aboard Babylon 5 as a Markab. A quiet, deeply religious race, like the Minbari they were insular and rarely involved themselves in the affairs of others. Valen's eyes danced across the others in the room. Behind the Markab stood a small collection of other aliens, each of whom represented a different race, and all of whom bowed to Valen in unison. Valen lowered his head in response, rolling his eyes upward so he could continue to study them even as he returned their bows. He could name a few of them, but at least two were from planets he couldn't identify. Still, it wasn't difficult to size them up as individuals. They were all dressed simply and each and every one of their faces displayed unmistakeable signs of strain and illness that transcended race. They were all refugees.

“Entil'Zha Valen,” the Markab greeted him. “I am honored beyond words to stand here in your presence.”  
“Hopefully not 'beyond words',” Valen smiled gently, “because Zathras says you have something of great importance to tell me concerning the refugee situation here aboard my Station.” The Markab nodded. “Please – have a seat,” Valen offered, holding his hand out toward the small couch and armchairs collected at one end of the office. He waited until the Markab and the other aliens with him took their seats before taking the last chair for himself, leaving Zathras, Sakai and Derann standing behind him like an honor guard. “Is there anything I can get for you ...” Valen trailed his words off leadingly.  
“Teneset,” the man offered quickly, dropping his eyes to the floor rather than meeting Valen's kindly visage. “My name is Teneset. But no, absolutely not. We would not imagine imposing any further upon you, Entil'Zha Valen. You are beyond graciousness in simply agreeing to listen to us.” Valen shifted uneasily at this deferential display and Sakai secretly cringed for him. “We attended your words carefully yesterday Entil'Zha, and there is not a man nor woman amongst our people who any longer doubt that the Dark Soldiers can and will be defeated, or that you and you alone are The One who will lead us to that victory! That is why we are here, why we came to tell your servant ...”  
“My assistant,” Valen corrected, “Zathras is my assistant, but please go on …”  
“That is why we came to pledge our complete allegiance to you, Entil'Zha Valen, our complete and utter support.” Teneset rose to his feet and the others promptly followed his lead. Just as Valen began to formulate some self-effacing words of thanks, the group fell to their knees in submission, and he groaned inaudibly in chagrin. “True, we are a paltry force, exiled from our worlds; we are farmers and engineers and common laborers, priests and teachers and students, but we wish to be trained as Anla'shok. Amongst ourselves we have already taken the oath; we will live for The One; we will die for The One … if you will have us, Entil'Zha Valen.”  
“Please – stand up – all of you.”  
“Apologies, Entil'Zha,” one of the other refugee leaders begged, rising quickly, “we did not mean to offend you ...”  
“I'm not offended, I just ...” He cast a helpless glance at Sakai. No matter how often this happened, he never seemed to get better at handling it. “Tell me, Teneset, for whom do you speak? For the ...” he took a quick count, “the six of you here?”  
“Well, yes, but not only for us, Entil'Zha. While some adults must take care of the children and infirm among us, the rest of us, Entil'Zha, all of us, wish to join your holy cause.” Valen's eyes widened in surprise. “We know that it is at least as likely that we may die for The One as to live, but having listened to your words we understand the importance of such a sacrifice. We believe your prophesies, Entil'Zha Valen, and know that if we do die in the fight ahead, it will not be in vain. So we are here to represent all of our peoples, to deliver their most fervent intentions to you. We have heard your call, and now it is our own.” Teneset walked to the office balcony. “I bid you see for yourself, Entil'Zha,” he suggested.

Valen glanced over at Sakai and Derann, frowned slightly in puzzlement, then followed in Teneset's footsteps. As he leaned out onto the balcony nearly every resident in the make-shift camps below took to their feet with a roar, shouting “Entil'Zha veni!” and Valen found himself at a loss for words. He turned around as Teneset passed a handful of scrolls to Zathras, who offered them in turn to Valen, but he could only stare.   
“We have been compiling these for you in the hours since your sermon, Entil'Zha,” Teneset explained, breaking Valen from his spell. “They are not yet complete; we hope to have them finished by the end of this cycle, but they list the names of each and every one of our people who would swear their lives to you. We took the liberty of marking the name of everyone who has had prior military experience. We will go wherever you bid us to go, fight in any way that we can, serve you as thoroughly as possible. You are our Light against the Darkness.” Valen looked surprised at the use of that familiar phrase; wasn't that what his friend Rathenn had said at the ceremony in which he'd been named Entil'Zha? His memories of that day were clouded and distorted by the powerful poison he'd had to drink as part of the ritual, but he was sure he'd heard those words before.   
“How many people are we talking about here, Derann?”  
“It would be easier, I think, Entil'Zha, to say how many we are not speaking of. They estimate there are perhaps two or four thousand children, the elderly, and so forth who are wholly unsuited to serve the Anla'shok in any capacity. My understanding is that the rest of those aboard the Station – twenty thousand or so – hope to join the cause.” Teneset nodded his head and Valen looked back over his shoulder at the teaming masses in the Station's core. By sheer numbers alone, the War had just taken a dramatic turn in his favor.   
“My God,” he whispered to himself in English.  
“I'm sorry, what?” Derann queried him. Valen shook his head and handed the list of names to him, then smiled at Teneset and the other representatives.  
“Nothing.” He turned again and stepped out onto the balcony, prompting another cheer from the people below. Valen gestured for quiet and was somewhat taken aback when he got it.   
“Since you are all here together,” he began in a loud clear voice, “it's only fitting I should take this opportunity to thank you. To thank you on behalf of the people who a thousand years hence will not know your faces or your names, who will not know how many of you stood here in this place, or where you came from or what you left behind or lost or even of your role in the great battle that is soon to come, but only of your legacy.” Composing his speech on the fly, Valen found the words came easily to him. He only had to say what he knew was true, what would come to pass. “For in a thousand years, who among us can hope to be remembered? In a thousand years each of your civilizations will have been rebuilt, on worlds old and new. Our children's children's children will have had children and their ways and languages will be different; great new poetry and art and fellowships will have been created, and the people of many worlds will come together and with their new visions and new technologies and new hopes build great places of congress not unlike this one. The Darkness that fell upon this generation and almost consumed us will be a faint memory, for the Shadows will have been gone for a millennium, remembered only by a quiet few who will keep watch for their reawakening. To the masses they will be a quaint tale, the kind of story our children's children's children will recount to their children in hushed tones as they put them to bed at night. There was a time, they will say, long, long ago, when the ancients walked among the stars and women and men strove together with angels against dark gods. They came together from a hundred worlds, united in common cause, to bring peace. In the Minbari tongue they were called 'Anla'shok' and they were the Army of Valen, the Minbari not of Minbari, and they vanquished the Great Enemy. And for this we must give thanks, that you and I can sleep safely in our beds and fear no shadows. And children, being children, will want to know more, and will ask; 'how will they know if we give thanks?' And our children's children's child will smile down upon the face of her child and say 'because Valen told them for us.'”

Valen's words settled across the silent gathering in the Core like dew – gentle, nourishing and deceptively simple. No one moved or even spoke for a long time, hoping to sustain the feeling of magic as long as possible. Even Valen was somewhat surprised but what he'd had to say and how he'd delivered it. It was no Gettysburg Address, he thought, but it was … something. Something he knew Ambassador Delenn would find recorded in the Grey Council's archives and read. And hopefully, it would make her smile. 

There were many smiles in the crowd beneath him, which made it all the harder for him to say what he had to next. But it was time to leave the future and get back to the business at hand – war. He returned to the office and spoke to the group assembled there.  
“Thank you, everyone; you're dismissed. Except you, Derann – it would seem we have a great number of decisions about training and troop deployment to make! Lennier – take notes,” he ordered with a quick wink he hoped wasn't too obvious to anyone but Sakai as he rounded his desk and took a seat.


	26. As Clear as Crystal

– 25 --  
\-- AS CLEAR AS CRYSTAL --

The day had come to reveal the new government building and the sacred window. But in the morning, Sakai had told Sinclair she wasn’t feeling well, and asked him to go on ahead to Yedor without her. Sinclair was deeply worried about her, as she seemed to be complaining of ill heath fairly often. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for erasing all traces of Babylon 4’s Human medical library. But so far, whatever was bothering her hadn’t proved to be serious, and Catherine promised she would try to attend. He selfishly wanted her there because he was quite proud of his creation and hoped to hear some honest words – whether approving or critical -- about it. Catherine remained the only person on the entire planet he could count on to speak her mind to him. 

Valen had arrived at the plaza long before the festivities scheduled for the day, in order to be certain everything was in place, and to review in his mind the things he would say once the crowd had arrived. He had heard a Vorlon was coming to watch the day’s proceedings, but when he had Zathras check the Minbari spaceport records that morning, he was told there were no arrivals listed or expected. It appeared, he thought, as he paced about the plaza in the cool, early autumn morning breeze, that he was on his own again. As numerous attendees began to enter the park and mill about, all carefully avoiding the broad-shouldered man in the patterned brown coat, Sinclair felt a painful echo of the long years he had spent on Minbar, truly alone, before Sakai had come, a year and a month before. 

Catching sight of Sakai he smiled to himself, recognizing her at once among the sea of hooded robes, and wished he could go right to her, rather than having to wait for her to jostle her way through the growing crowd. But where he walked, the people looked, so he would have to wait. He couldn’t appear too eager to greet a mere acolyte. At last, Sakai approached him and bowed deeply in greeting. He nodded his head to her in acknowledgment as he looked around; making certain no one else was close enough to hear them. Sinclair began to walk slowly, motioning to her to join him, and spoke to her in an undertone.

“How are you feeling? I was getting pretty worried about you.”  
“Jeff, I have something important I have to talk to you about, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react to it. Can we get away from here for a minute so we can discuss it?”  
“Can’t it wait?”  
“No. I can’t keep it to myself any longer.”  
“All right. Follow me – there is an abandoned Temple about a quarter-mile from here.”

Sinclair led the way, his long silken coat billowing behind him, and Sakai walked in its wake, projecting as subservient an attitude as she could muster. Finally, they reached the old building, which was partially overgrown with vines and weeds and set back from the main road. The walls were long gone, but the roof and supporting pillars still stood, and they retreated into the shadows there. He studied their surroundings until he was sure they were alone and then, in mutual relief, they were able to drop their guard.

“What’s the matter, Catherine?” Sinclair asked, taking her hand.  
“Jeff, I don’t know how to tell you this,” she pulled the hood off of her head so she could see him better. “I don’t even know what I want to do about it – I’m just so anxious.”  
“What is it?” he repeated soulfully, pulling her forward to him by her hips.   
“I’ve waited a while, I, I wanted to be sure…” she looked up at him apprehensively, “Jeff, I’m pregnant.”  
“Really?” he cried, without a trace of trepidation, “Well, good then! I mean, that’s great, Catherine!” Sinclair put his arms around her and began to kiss her elatedly.   
“But what about our situation, what about…” she began, pulling her lips away from his.  
“The hell with that!” he rejoined happily, meeting her mouth with his own again. This time, Catherine surrendered to him, allowed herself to share in his delight. She kissed him back with blissful relief, and let her hands wander up and down his strong body. Sinclair pulled her hair out from the knot she had it tied in, ran his hands through it as it cascaded down her neck. “I love you, Catherine,” he murmured, “this is exciting!” He pressed her close, caressed her, and began nibbling at her neck. Catherine opened her eyes to see the love in his face, smiled herself and nuzzled against him.   
“So you’re sure it’s okay?”  
“Positive. I just wish you hadn’t told me now because I have a speech to make and a building to unveil, and all I want to do is go back home and be alone with you.” He kissed her again, then abruptly turned his head. “Did you just hear something?” he whispered seriously.  
“No, I…” But he had already let go of her and disappeared into the surrounding woods, his newly forged, replacement denn’bok in hand. Sakai looked about warily. Then, to her left, she thought she saw something move amidst the foliage.  
“Jeff! Over there!” Moving stealthily, Valen followed her directions, but he soon returned to the Temple floor and put away his weapon.  
“I didn’t see anything – must have been an animal. I guess we’re getting a bit paranoid what with three-quarters of Minbar expected to attend today. Come on, let’s get back to the plaza and finish up this ceremony so we can go home and I can demonstrate how enamored of you I am.”   
“And you’re sure you’re okay with this? I thought maybe you’d be upset.”  
“Why would you think that?”  
“Because you like to plan everything out, figure all the angles, and this just, well, it just happened.”  
“It’s not like the possibility didn’t cross my mind, Cath, but I thought it wouldn’t work out genetically, so I never brought it up. I’m glad that it did, though, unless … jeez, I’m an idiot – are you trying to tell me you don’t want to go through with it? It’s your choice, of course; I’ll support whatever you want to do,” he added hastily. Catherine shook her head.  
“No, no, Jeff, I’m okay with the idea, I just didn't think it was possible either. But are you sure it won’t pose a problem for…”  
“I’ll just push forward The Grey Council a little bit – I’m almost ready anyhow. And if the Minbari people aren’t ready to accept you, well, that’s just too damn bad. I mean, look what I’ve gone through and done for them already – it’s high time they do something for me, right?” He took her by the hand and started to guide her from the old building, then stopped to kiss her again.   
“You have the cutest look on your face,” she laughed. “You better get rid of it before we get back or everyone will have us figured out!”  
“Thanks for the warning,” he said, consciously blanking out his expression, while Sakai tied her hair back up. “Let’s get going. I’m really looking forward to your reaction to the window – I know you’ve seen it in vids, but I think it’s the kind of thing you really have to see in person to fully appreciate.” He smiled again and Sakai nudged him. “Thanks. How about one last kiss?” She complied, then laughed.  
“I’m really relieved; I was awfully worried about what you’d say.” Now they could see the throng of people again, so she fell behind him, aimed her eyes to the ground, and whispered a final few words. “I love you, Jeff.”  
“We'll talk more later,” he replied in an undertone, drawing a deep breath before walking further forward as Valen.

Upon their return to the plaza, which was crowded with Minbari from all three Castes, Valen took his place before the shrouded window and delivered a rousing speech about the beauty of their shared inheritance and the necessity for all of the Castes to work together to defeat their enemies and dream of a better future. He also suggested that soon, he would make further prophecies that would transform the world for all their children. He then reiterated the promises he had made upon his arrival, and stressed how each of them was in the process of being met. His oratory was precisely timed so that when he was finished, and the structure was revealed, the sunlight was at the proper angle to pass directly through the multicolored crystal panels, casting Valen into a dark shadow, and painting the crowd below in tinted light. This had the effect he had hoped for, eliciting impressed cheers from the attendees. 

There was a large party and a tour of the palace after he concluded his valediction, but Valen managed to elude the crowd and disappear early in the afternoon, while the festivities were still underway. Even if he had not been so eager to be alone with Catherine, he felt it might harm his mystique if Valen were seen publicly engaged in such mundane behavior. As hard as he had earlier tried to be seen as just a man like everyone else, he knew that to create The Council he needed to use the people’s misperception of him as someone greater to his own advantage. At least until that was done. He didn’t pause to consider that it might prove impossible for him to reverse such impressions later on or that the consequences of that oversight would turn out to be something he’d have to live with for the next hundred years.

Sinclair and Catherine headed back to Tuzanor in silence, not quite sure where to resume their conversation. Once home, Sinclair instructed Zathras that they were not to be disturbed under any circumstance, and he and Catherine retreated to the bedroom. It was only then that they began to speak, now afraid to directly address the issue that had been so easy to discuss just hours before. Sinclair realized he was pacing around the room in much the same fashion that they were circling around the topic closest to their hearts. Finally he sat down on the bed beside her and blurted out the question at hand. 

“How long have you known?”  
“I started to think I might be pregnant a while ago, when I first started feeling nauseous all the time, so I brought back a medical scanner from B4 and that confirmed it this morning. It turns out I’m about three months along. I’m a little scared, though Jeff – soon I won’t be able to hide the fact that I’m pregnant … and I don’t want you to alter your whole life here just because neither one of us was responsible enough to think about precautions. Are you sure…”  
“Catherine, my problems with the Minbari are my problems – don’t concern yourself with them. The only thing that really matters to me is whether you're happy. So you tell me, who are you and what do you want, Catherine Sakai?”   
“First and foremost, I'm a Ranger. Like you, winning the War comes first for me. But I want to raise a family with you, Jeff, I want us to have a real life where we each come first to one another … I want you to straighten out Minbar and then go away with me someplace where we can make up for all the years we wasted apart. But I feel like there’s already a third person here with us, someone else we have to take into account … Valen. You have a destiny, Jeff, and I refuse to get in the way of that. What does Valen want, Jeff?”  
“Valen wants whatever I tell him to want, okay? What more can I say to you, Catherine?” Sinclair pronounced, exasperated. “Don’t dodge my question by worrying about me and my role as Valen.” He took a long breath and composed himself. They were just a little too well practiced at arguing with each other. “Cath, if I’ve learned one thing since I’ve been here, it’s that sometimes, when it’s really important, you can’t think, you just have to act on faith. One way or another, things will work themselves out. It just takes faith – a leap of faith. For me, it’s still faith in God. If that doesn’t work for you, if you can’t believe in what you cannot see, can’t you at least have faith in me? After all,” he chuckled, “you’re the one who says I have wings on my head -- so how can we fall if we can fly? We’ve made it this far together, Catherine; the future will work itself out. Take that leap of faith with me?” Finally, Catherine smiled back and ran her hand across the back of his head, pulling him to her lips.  
“Yes,” she said, “Yes I will yes.” Jeff lay her back on the bed and kissed her exuberantly, and every time he came up for air he murmured to her how he loved her. Catherine opened her eyes and saw that his face was wet with tears of joy, wondered if they were his or hers.  
“When was the last time I made love to you all afternoon long,” he whispered seductively.  
“The day I got pregnant?”  
“Too long ago. Definitely too long.”

They made joyful love for hours, by turns tender, frenzied and blissful, then fell asleep in one another’s arms. After napping briefly, Sakai awoke and stumbled the short distance to the bathroom. She returned with a tall glass of cold water, from which she took a sip, and then offered it to Sinclair. He sat up in bed, tossed off the covers and reached out for her, rejecting the offering. Sakai crawled into bed with him and curled up in his arms with her back to him. Sinclair looked down at her belly and ran his hand around it tentatively. She rubbed her face against his and followed his gaze down, sharing his wonderment that a piece of him was growing inside her into a child, their child. He put an arm around her shoulders and softly kissed the top of her head.   
“I wish I could lay here like this with you for the next thousand years.”  
“Me too,” she replied with feeling.  
“I’ve only felt this good once before in my entire life.” Catherine turned her head curiously.  
“I’ll ignore the insult possibly implied in that comment and instead ask you – when?”  
“Insult?” he asked indignantly, “No … I’m not saying that being with you hasn’t been good before, it’s just that this time was … wait; are you baiting me again? I can get into more than enough trouble without your help, thank you very much, Ms. Sakai!”  
“Sorry. Old habit,” she apologized, “So what was the other time?”  
“Last year, when Kosh and I came to get you … I was in his ship, Catherine.”   
“Really?” she asked, intrigued, “I thought you said the Vorlons wouldn't allow anyone conscious in their ships.”  
“No. They don’t. But he did allow me. And that’s not all. I’ve also seen him – out of his encounter suit – no disguises.”  
“Wow! What did you see?”  
“I’ve been through a lot of … interesting experiences, but that one…” he stroked her hair absently as he searched for words. “You remember the whole Jason Ironheart thing back on B5, right?” He waited until he felt her nod against him. “Well, when Talia Winters, the resident teep, was trying to explain to me who Ironheart was and how they knew each other, she described to me what she said it's like when two telepaths make love. She said it’s just mirrors and mirrors of your own feelings reflected back at you until it's so good it hurts. Well, being inside the Vorlon ship with Kosh was like that. When we rescued you, when I had you in my arms again…” Jeff hugged her tightly and sighed once more. “It was nothing less than a religious experience – as if by looking at you, I was seeing the face of God. Somehow his ship and maybe even Kosh himself, were reflecting my emotions back at me, amplifying them. I lost all track of time and space, I wasn’t aware of anything except how wonderful it was to be with you again, even while you slept. It was so emotionally fulfilling that it was almost too much to bear. It gave me an understanding into why the Vorlons have hidden themselves from us and how they hold the Minbari so in thrall. But you know, I don’t think the Vorlons feel on their own? I got the impression that Kosh, or his ship, whichever it was, was surprised that I could feel anything so intensely in the first place, as if that were something very new … or very old to him. Occasionally, when I reflect on it, I wonder if maybe they’re a bit jealous of us -- maybe that’s why Ulkesh wanted me to be so alone. Maybe our emotions are threatening to them – they’re something we have that they’ve forgotten. 

“Anyway, sometimes when I remember that experience, real life … even when we’re making love, Catherine, everything seems almost flat and colorless by comparison.” He paused for a long time, reached for her hand. “But today, Cath, hearing from you that we’ve created a new life between us, making love just now? It was close, Catherine, it was so close.” He said it with more emotion in his voice than she had ever before heard from anyone, let alone from this man who’d spent a lifetime concealing his feelings behind a façade of military duty. She had no words of her own to match the depth and beauty of his, so in response, she rolled on top of him and kissed him.  
“Maybe we should try again and see if we can’t get it exactly right,” she suggested with a lascivious toss of her head, moving again with certainty to his mouth. 

Abruptly, their moment of perfect happiness was shattered by the unexpected sounds of shouting and scuffling coming from elsewhere in the house. They barely had time to separate their juxtaposed lips before the door was crashed in by what seemed to be a veritable army of marauding Minbari. The invaders themselves were stunned into a brief silence by the staggering tableau of Valen laying with a strange, obviously alien woman on top of him, both of them utterly naked.

“In the Name of Valeria!” One of them declaimed at the same instant that Sakai reached to the floor to grab the covers they had discarded, and Sinclair sat up and began to fish for the PPG gun he kept hidden between the wall and a chest beside the bed.  
“Don’t move, Valen,” one of the intruders spat. As she stepped forward from the group, dressed in a black military uniform, both Sinclair and Sakai recognized her at once as Shaneer, Kadenn’s widow. She lowered a blood-streaked denn’bok and aimed it at Catherine’s throat. “Or shall I do to … this creature … as I did to that other alien you kept in your house, the one who tried to bar our way?”  
“Zathras?” Sinclair exclaimed, “what have you done to Zathras?” He began to rise, then realized his own nakedness would reveal him to be not fully Minbari and dropped his hands to his crotch, pulling the blanket across his lap. Kadenn’s wife jerked her head and in response, another warrior literally threw Zathras’ bleeding body into the room. “Zathras!” Sinclair cried, and at the sound of his voice, the dying man looked up and smiled.  
“Zathras always know Zathras would have a sad death … always there is symmetry … but Zathras is honored to die for The One.”  
“No!” Sinclair exclaimed helplessly, reaching toward him with one hand. “Without you, Zathras, how can I possibly... No! No!” Sinclair cried as blood bubbled from Zathras’ mouth.  
“It is … destiny …” his aide gasped, and with his final breath, Zathras pushed forth the words; “Entil’Zha veni!” At that moment, Sinclair recalled that Sakai was cowering behind him, grabbed her in his arms and huddled over her protectively, glaring helplessly from the bed like a wounded bear defending a cub.   
“Someone give them some clothes,” Sinclair heard a familiar voice announce sadly.  
“Braoon! What is a holy man such as yourself doing among this party of thugs and murderers?” Bowing his head and averting his eyes, a man in gold robes stepped forward.  
“I, I am sorry, Entil’Zha. I had no idea they would spill blood in your house. I only thought … my sisters and I…” he indicated the two other Religious Caste members in the group, “we thought only to disprove the rumors that you were … behaving inappropriately with some young novitiate … I cannot say if I am sadder to have come or to have discovered the truth to be so much worse.” As he spoke, however, he picked up Valen's clothes from the floor and handed them to Valen, turning his head away.   
“’Worse,’ you say, Braoon? This is an abomination!” Shaneer shouted, moving back in front of him and again pointing at Sakai, who covered herself with her robe and shrank against Valen. “In the long history of our people no one has ever fornicated with a member of some other, inferior, race! A mere four cycles among us and already this interloper has violated our most basic taboo! He has seduced all of you with his wicked gifts, but now you can see his real intentions!”  
“It is true, Braoon, we have all seen it with our own eyes!” spoke another in the group.  
“Slay the alien whore!” cried still another, “It is she who has led our great leader astray!”  
“Catherine is my wife,” Valen announced through clenched teeth, his eyes angry slits and his arms tensed so tightly that each of the separate muscles in them were individually defined. “If you have a problem with anyone here, it is not with her, nor with my servant, whom you have slain in your unholy and barbarous zeal, but with me and me alone! Should any of you so much as think a violent thought against her, I will bring down such fire on this world that the name ‘Minbar’ will refer only to a charred asteroid tumbling in space!” 

At least a few of his opponents shrank back at his fury, which seemed to hang in the air as a visible presence. Valen stood up before them; his shoulders squared, his spine as stiff as iron, his hands in tight knots, and pushed aside Kadenn’s widow so that he might address himself face to face to Braoon. 

“If it is true that the so-called crime I am guilty of outweighs all that I have brought you, all that I have done for you and all that I have promised you, then I demand to stand trial for it! Braoon – I know you to be a man of honor – I hold you personally responsible for my wife’s safety … should any harm come to her…” he shook his head from side to side, veins bulging in his temples and prompting his former friend to bow submissively. Valen now spoke to the crowd before him. “Take me if you will, but first allow me to bury my companion, for while he too was alien to this world, his soul was more pure, his sacrifices and desires for Minbar greater than any of you could hope to imagine.” He turned at last to Shaneer. “If it is my death you seek, then you shall have it – but not here. I demand my trial to be held at the Temple of Varenni, in the StarFire Wheel.” The group crowded into his tiny bedroom gasped almost as one.  
“This is a brave move you make, Entil’Zha Valen,” said an elder from the Worker Caste.  
“Is it bravery, or simple desperation?” mocked one from the Star Riders clan who stepped up beside Kadenn’s widow.  
“Perhaps it is the same thing,” said Braoon quietly. “Very well, Entil’Zha, you have it upon my name that no harm will come to this … this woman until your fate has been decided by the ancient gods. Stand clear,” he ordered the group, “and let the Entil’Zha provide a proper grave for his friend.”  
“You may as well prepare hers while you’re at it,” hissed Shaneer to Valen, who shot her as pure a look of hatred as could ever be possible. But he said nothing to her, swung away instead and leaned down to Sakai, who had watched all of this in silent, frozen terror.  
“Don't be afraid, Catherine. I'll see you again,” he announced, and then, under his breath so no one else could hear, instructed; “find the Triluminary!” 

Valen knelt down to Zathras, surreptitiously making the sign of the Cross before he lifted the body in his arms. The strange party followed Valen and the trail of Zathras’ blood through the house and out into the garden, where he tenderly lay down the body, and began to tear away at the dirt with his bare hands. Rathmer came stumbling forward, and Valen looked up at the familiar sound of his footfall to see that his other servant had also been assaulted, although thankfully, not fatally. He smiled sorrowfully as the younger man offered him a shovel. 

“I am sorry, Rathmer,” Valen said. “You have served me faithfully and by no means deserve to be punished for my alleged crimes.”  
“It is I who am sorry, Entil’Zha … sorry I could not stop them. Perhaps what you did was wrong, but what they have done is more so.”  
“I am certain you did your best. Please – go to Catherine – whom you knew as Lennier -- and make certain she is not mistreated.”  
“Yes, Entil’Zha. I’m sorry, Entil’Zha.” Nodding to him, Valen began to dig methodically.

Alone at last, Catherine shot into action, thinking at first of Valen’s PPG, then realizing it would be pointless. There were perhaps twenty of them and only one of her, and she knew her fighting skills weren’t that good. Even with a gun – what good could it do them? Where could they go? She searched through her own clothes, settling upon the flight suit that she’d been wearing when Sinclair had rescued her. If they were going to execute her for being Human, she was going to die dressed as one. As she pulled it on, she found herself unable to take her eyes from Zathras’ blood on their bedroom floor, felt her throat tightening and her body begin to shake in anger and fear. Fiercely, she called upon her training as a Ranger to suppress those emotions and focus on the task at hand. What had Jeff instructed her to find? “The Triluminary?” What was that? It must be something important he thought he had already shown her or told her about, but unfortunately, she reflected, he hadn’t. It couldn’t be hard to find though, as they had few belongings, so she began to search the bedroom hastily. 

At the very bottom of the large metal chest Sinclair kept beside the bed, she found something, wrapped carefully in numerous layers of cloth. Rushing to remove them, she at last revealed a Plexiglas box in which a weird metal triangle was encased. It seemed to be composed of a clear, slightly bluish, alien material, with four thin wires running to the center where an angular fragment of stone was suspended. She had no idea what it was or what it did – so she figured odds were it was the object Sinclair had referred to. She quickly hid it in a pocket in her suit, and threw one of her Minbari coats over herself to further conceal it. An instant later, she looked up to see that Rathmer had entered the room and was watching her with disbelief. Before she could speak, however, he addressed her.

“Lennier? No, that is not the name the Entil’Zha gave me…”  
“It’s Catherine. I’m Catherine.”  
“Catherine,” he mimicked slowly, working the strange syllables across his tongue. “The Entil’Zha sent me to look after you.” He looked around nervously. “You cannot be from the world Zathras was from – what are you?”  
“No. I’m Human. My people call themselves Human.”  
“And where is this Human world? How did the Entil’Zha know you?” Sakai was pleased to hear someone asking reasonable questions for a change, but she was too canny to divulge any information without Sinclair’s instruction.  
“Where is Valen? What have they done to him? Where is the Temple of Varenni and what is the StarFire Wheel?”  
“You do not know?” Rathmer asked in surprise. “Truly then, you are an alien. The Ancients left the Wheel for us in the Great Temple. It is the place where disputes are resolved, where the Fire consumes the righteous.” Sakai looked at him in puzzlement.  
“What do you mean ‘fire consumes the righteous’?” But before Rathmer could explain, the door reopened and Braoon entered.   
“Bring this woman with you, Rathmer; we will take her to The Great Temple until the trial begins.” Sakai found herself resisting out of impulse as the man she had known before only as a cook and servant grasped her arm firmly and began to steer her to the door. She had to consciously instruct herself to surrender and follow the two men along the trail of blood through her house. Outside, she saw no sign of Sinclair or the others, just a mound of disturbed earth beneath the tree where the two of them had relaxed together on that gorgeous summer day three months before. Another day of joy that had ended in unforeseen tragedy. Growing numb with grief, she relinquished herself to their authority, wondering all the while where Jeff was and what kind of salvation he had planned.


	27. Deja Vu

\-- 26 --  
\-- DEJA VU --

If the Wind Swords who tortured Valen were the least bit surprised or perturbed by his failure to resist or even cry out, they didn’t let such details get in the way of brutalizing him. Logically assuming that he would be dead within twenty-four hours anyway, they also did not concern themselves with any attempt to conceal the results of their atrocities from the possible sight of other, perhaps more squeamish, Minbari.

As for Valen, it took little effort on his part to submit without resistance. Having been assaulted and crucified by the Warrior Caste before, he knew exactly what to expect. This time, however, a part of him felt he deserved whatever they chose to do to him. It was just and fitting punishment for his arrogance and hubris and lack of self-restraint.

At some point, Valen realized they had finished with him for the night and opened his eyes. Intense pain burned though him all at once, from so many parts of his body that the suddenness of it drove him into brief unconsciousness. When he recovered from the shock, he was able to see that, just as during his captivity in 2248, at The Battle of The Line, he was suspended high above the floor by his arms in a dark room, with a single, bright cylinder of light enveloping him. He looked down at himself remotely and saw that his clothes hung from his shoulders in tatters and were dyed almost uniformly with his blood. His head hurt the most, but he was certain he had some broken ribs, and having all of his weight pulling down on his arms had dislocated at least one of his shoulders. Fresh blood ran down his arms from his wrists where coarse metal ropes cut deep into his flesh and bound him to the cold bar. But none of this concerned him. Zathras’ death and saving Catherine – those were his only thoughts.

Poor, brave, selfless Zathras. There was no justice at all in Zathras having died for his enormous lack of judgment. For the first time in many months, Valen found his mind twisted with guilt and doubt about his own motives and actions. He should never have kissed Catherine out in the open that morning, should never have said or even thought that the Minbari owed him a debt of gratitude. Those were acts of selfishness. But what was Zathras’ crime? Accompanying Valen to the past and guiding his first footsteps? Facilitating Valen’s every move? Running all his errands and doing his bidding without question? And how quickly Valen had come to take the other man for granted, how rarely he thought to thank him. Yet Zathras had never once complained, never once asked for anything for himself; not even an acknowledgment between them that nothing Valen had done would have been possible without Zathras’ help. Valen had told Zathras that he didn’t want to be disturbed, and Zathras had died trying to obey. And why? All so he could be with Catherine? Here the fate of the galaxy had been entrusted to him, and he’d gone and let his physical and emotional desires get in the way. He should have listened to Ulkesh. But it was too late now.

If he had been able to concentrate clearly, he would have recognized that it was not lust he had been sharing with Catherine, nor had he failed to keep his duties to Minbar first. True, they had been less discreet than they might have been in recent days, but surely Catherine had earned the right to relative freedom with her own devotion to his efforts on behalf of Minbar. Sooner or later, all secrets come out, he would understand, hours later, when his extreme pain freed his mind from his body. Theirs came out later, rather than sooner. It was inevitable. Only his response mattered. But Valen had not yet reached that moment of enlightenment.

So now what, he asked himself. Zathras was dead, he was as good as dead, and all hope for the future, which grew inside of Catherine, seemed doomed. Valen hadn’t foreseen any of this, didn’t know what to do next. His only hope was that if he could endure the StarFire Wheel, he might be able to save Catherine’s life. Maybe she could use the Triluminary somehow and transform herself, take his place. She had combat experience and Ranger training and in the last year had handled an enormous portion of the logistics relating to the battle against the Shadows. She could speak at least some Minbari, knew some of what had to happen next, plus her own Buddhist faith was a lot closer to the Minbari’s native beliefs than his Catholicism. So maybe in the future, the Minbari wouldn’t be evoking Valen’s Name, but some name Catherine adopted. The important thing was that the Shadows could not be allowed to win this war, that Minbari society ended up governed by The Grey Council. Everyone was expendable, even Valen, but the mission was not.

He thought again about Catherine, pregnant with their child. Were they still genetically compatible enough that her body wouldn’t reject the fetus the way cross-species organ transplants often were? Dear God, had he endangered her life in that way too? He had tried so hard in both of his lifetimes to do what was right, to be morally responsible, to put the greater welfare of his world, his subordinates, his loved ones, ahead of his own self-interest; not because he was trying to be an example to anyone, but because that was who he was. But nevertheless, he had failed. He had tried to be perfect, but learned now that in truth, he was still only Human.  
Valen concentrated on shutting out the pain, in practice for the morrow, when he would step into the StarFire Wheel. He wasn’t certain that he would be strong enough to resist the temptation to jump back out of the consuming Fire. If he had been that strong, would they be in this situation at all? He found that if he concentrated on Catherine’s face, on how much he loved her, how important it was for her to live and have a chance to challenge the Shadows, he could forget his body almost entirely. Little did the Wind Swords know, he thought to himself, that they had given him the perfect opportunity to prepare for what was ahead of him by torturing his flesh.  
-


	28. Caught in the Crosshairs

\-- 27 --  
– CAUGHT IN THE CROSSHAIRS --

She hadn’t been mistreated, Sakai conceded morosely; assuming she didn’t count being dragged out of their house and separated from Valen, then running a gauntlet of shocked and angry priests and novitiates at The Great Temple as mistreatment. Braoon had silently ushered her to a spare, windowless room; much smaller than the one she had shared with Sinclair, but no different than those the usual residents of the Temple slept in, and he had seen to it that a simple meal of flarn and fruit juice was left for her. Out of feeble hope for the child inside of her, she forced herself to sit down and eat it, but Sakai had little doubt that they would both be dead within a few days at best.

And Jeff – what of Jeff? It had been obvious that only the presence of members of the other two casts had restrained the Warrior Caste; what was to say they hadn’t already killed him now that those witnesses were gone? And even if they hadn't killed him, what could Rathmer’s words about “the righteous dying by fire” mean? It evoked the image of some kind of medieval trial, the burning at the stake. Why would Jeff have requested such a trial? Did he have a plan, or was he just stalling for time? 

Surely this hadn’t been something Jeff had known was coming? She couldn’t imagine him humiliating the both of them like that, nor did she think he would be willing to separate them and thus leave her vulnerable to, well, pretty much anything, now that she lacked his protection. Sure, she could fend off an assailant or two, but not an entire planet full of people who placed her at the center of an ancestral prohibition. And she knew about that too! She didn’t understand it, but Jeff had told her about the Minbari sensibilities in this area on her very first day on Babylon 4. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought; why couldn’t I have kept the secret a few damn hours longer? I knew he was going to react to it with a strong feeling one way or the other, I knew he’d made enemies when he’d beaten Kadenn; why in hell did I set us up like that? Someone must have followed us to the ruins, seen him kiss me, seen my damn hair … I’ve killed him. Him and Zathras and me and our child-to-be. God, what if I’ve killed the future? No Valen, no Rangers, no Grey Council … just what the Shadows were hoping for when we set out with Marcus on that mission last year! 

Maybe, when we’re in that Varenni’s Temple, if I behave forcefully enough, seductively enough, I can convince them Jeff couldn’t help himself. Maybe I can at least save him and the only chance we have of winning this first Shadow War? No, it was a crazy thought. Jeff would sooner let the entire Universe burn than surrender responsibility for anything he’d done. Damn him and his blasted ethics! Damn the Jesuits for drilling it all into his head! Damn me for not listening to him a year ago and instead insisting upon staying with him!

Trying not to cry, lest she give the Minbari posted outside her door any satisfaction, Sakai turned her thoughts slightly. What was that Triluminary thing? She sat on the floor behind the bed, out of view of the door, and took the box from her pocket. Sakai held it in her lap and fumbled around trying to discover how to open the clear packaging. What could it be? It certainly didn’t appear to be a weapon. 

The transparent box popped open abruptly, and the strange object inside was thrown out against her belly. Carefully, she reached to pick it up, then noticed it had begun to glow brightly. What the hell was that about? She heard movement outside the door and raced to get the device back into the box, then wrapped the whole thing up in her coat, hoping the intense illumination wouldn’t pass through all the layers of fabric. She balled the jacket up and hopped onto the tilted bed just seconds before the door opened to reveal a surprise visitor. It was, of all things, a Vorlon in an orange encounter suit just like Kosh’s.

“Kosh?” she asked in surprise. Music rose from his encounter suit.  
“Yes. Are you The One?”  
“The one what?”  
“Do you have The Triluminary?”  
“Yes -- right over there. What…”  
“Show me.” Kosh interrupted. Sakai picked up the bundle from the bed and unwrapped it carefully. There seemed to be no reaction from the Vorlon, so she opened the box and took the Triluminary out. This time, nothing happened – it didn’t glow.

The feelers around the collar of Kosh’s suit whirled around, as if he were collecting data. Catherine was also puzzled – why didn’t it glow now the way it did when it was out of the box before? 

“It is not for you. How do you have it?” Sakai sensed menace and her tension grew. Didn’t Kosh remember who she was and how she got to Minbar? Sinclair had certainly made it sound like a memorable enough journey, even if she had slept through it.  
“Jeff told me to find it for him.”  
“Who are you?”  
“What do you mean, ‘who are you’? We met last year – you brought Jeff to where I was so you could both rescue me.”  
“No.”  
“Yes – don’t you remember? I’m Catherine Sakai? One of Jeffrey Sinclair’s Rangers? His wife?”  
“Who?” This was too strange – it was the Vorlons who were supposed to know things mere Humans did not – not the other way around.  
“Jeffrey Sinclair. The Entil’Zha. Valen?” There was a long pause before she heard anything – either music or words – from Kosh.  
“Who are you? Did you come back with the Triluminary?” he insisted again, almost stubbornly.   
“No, I was drawn into the time rift accidentally, and you came and found me and brought me to Babylon 4 to join Valen. The Triluminary is his -- I don’t know anything about it other than him asking me to find it.” Sakai thought for a moment. “Wait a minute – I think I understand – you are the Kosh from this time period, aren’t you? You don’t remember traveling back in time to help Jeff find me because it hasn’t happened for you yet! Okay, Valen is the Entil’Zha, but he was Jeffrey Sinclair, a Human. He did something, willingly, that changed him, and then came back with Babylon 4 to unite the Minbari so they can defeat the Shadows. We asked you why you reunited us and all you answered was ‘we live for The One; we die for The One.’ Does any of this mean anything to you?”  
“Yes.”  
“Good thing,” she sighed impatiently, dropping down the arm that held the outstretched Triluminary, “because they’re about to execute us both and…” Sakai looked down nonplused, for as she spoke, the Triluminary lit up again. “Why did it do that now?” she mused. “Hey! Where are you going?” she shouted at Kosh as he turned away toward the door. “Are you going to help us or not?”  
“Perhaps,” he said, rotating in her direction slightly. “Bring it. Tomorrow. I will instruct you.” 

“I’m sorry, Delenn, I cannot let you follow this path further,” Draal said, seemingly stepping out in front of Sakai as she turned away from the door. “I really shouldn’t have allowed you to travel this far, but I was, how do the Humans put it? ‘Caught up in the moment,’ and forgot to stop you.”  
“Draal! That isn’t fair! You cannot ask me to leave them now! For all I know, Jeff has been murdered at this point – or dies in the StarFire Wheel! Is that why you are stopping me? Are you trying to protect me from seeing his death?”  
“I warned you when we started that there were certain secrets you were never intended to know…”  
“You are the one who told me to look back – to share his happiness – didn’t you know that would led me directly to this moment? The one followed the other like night follows day – please, Draal, you know me – I will tell no one what I have seen, what happened next. But you cannot leave me thinking this is how it ended for him if it did not!”  
“Have you not wondered, my dear, why there is no record of how The Grey Council was founded? Why the ancient texts make it sound as if one day Valen arrived and the next, The Council simply existed? Didn’t it occur to you that this was in accordance with Valen’s own wishes?”  
“But Draal, Sinclair used to say that why a person asks a question can often be of greater importance than the answer itself. You know it is not curiosity about The Council that drives me – I want to know what happened to my friend -- one moment he is discovering that his wife is with child, celebrating their mutual joy, and the next they are prisoners – what kind of a friend would I be if I did not demand to learn more?” Draal looked at her for a long time, considering, then he sighed.  
“I have always been too fond of you by half, Delenn. Very well, I will indulge you once more – but you must vow never to discuss what you learn – not even with Sheridan. Valen wanted no one to know what happened besides Kosh, Catherine Sakai, and The Nine Who Were.” Reluctantly, Delenn nodded her head.  
“In Valen’s Name, I will tell no one, not even John.”


	29. Deja Vu All Over Again

\-- 28 --  
\--DEJA VU ALL OVER AGAIN--

As he hung there in the night, Valen found he was either dreaming or hallucinating – which, he didn’t know or care. There was no surprise in his imagining that he was a prisoner back on board The Grey Council’s cruiser in 2248, since circumstances had quite logically brought his conscious thoughts there already. It began as all his other dreams of that time had, with him strapped into his crippled Starfury, helplessly watching the sky full of stars -- every star an exploding ship; trying to ram the cruiser; awakening to find himself hanging, just as he was now, being tortured. He had recalled those images so many times that even in the form of a nightmare, the power had at last been drained from them. It had happened, but those events didn’t own him anymore. If he was seeing them now, it was because they were trying to tell him something. 

The details that had begun to appear when he served as Earth’s Ambassador to Minbar came into play. He saw himself in the middle of The Grey Council, a mirror held up to reveal him not as Sinclair, but as Valen. This time, however, when he awoke in the Grey Council chamber, he saw himself, as Valen, standing in a circle of light, with no one else there. The light came from some tremendously powerful source; it was burning hot, like the sun at high altitude at noon. The staff that had once been used to knock him unconscious instead appeared in his hand, and he ran his eyes up along its shaft to see a metal fleur-de-lis with a Triluminary mounted in the center of it. The Triluminary began to glow, and there was a blinding flash. He opened his eyes again and as he looked around, nine other circles of light popped into position and nine Minbari entered them from the shadows beyond. He heard himself speaking, and as he did, he could see Catherine in the distance, smiling at him. She was holding the mirror this time, and in it, he saw his old visage, the face that had belonged to Sinclair. 

Valen lifted his head from his shoulder, opened his eyes and smiled. The secret had been there with him all along. There was no need to berate himself – this was what was intended to happen. He could see the mistakes in his thinking clearly now, see where he’d been led astray, and all fear – of dying and of living – left him. He knew what he was supposed to do.


	30. Seen By the Light of a Single Star

\-- 29 --  
\-- SEEN BY THE LIGHT OF A SINGLE STAR --

There were perhaps fifty thousand Minbari of all three castes crammed into the rows and rows of glassed-in galleries that surrounded the dark floor of the StarFire Wheel Chamber in the Temple of Varenni. With millions of others watching the planet-wide broadcast of the dramatic proceedings, it was quite possible that literally every Minbari alive saw what happened there. As the years passed and the stories about the events of that day grew even more elaborate than the astonishing truth had been, people whose parents had not yet been conceived at the time would also claim that they had stood there themselves; perhaps close to Valen’s wife, the alien at the very center of the controversy that had brought him to that place. Or maybe they’d say they’d been beside one of the three power crystals that opened the Wheel, and had looked directly into Valen’s eyes as he paced around the circle, electrifying the room with his powerful oratory. Everyone, without exception, alleged to have witnessed the angel Valeria spread his luminous wings just above Valen and The Nine Who Were at the climax of the trial, fly to the ceiling and close the iris of the Wheel, but even that was only partially true. 

In a way, Valen himself encouraged all of this exaggeration and misunderstanding when he later ordered all visual and written records of the day destroyed; banned the creation of any image of him, his wife or their children, in any media, during any of their lifetimes; and especially when he commanded through The Grey Council that no discussion be held of the Triluminary’s powers. By the time these prohibitions themselves had passed into legend, there was little truly factual information left for dissemination, which was Valen’s intent.   
The crowd ringing the floor of the lower chamber parted as representatives of the Warrior Caste brought in the first of the prisoners, the alien Valen claimed was his wife, and with whom he had been caught in the unspeakable act of sexual congress. As they left the narrow hallway, the world was able to see just what this woman who had thrown their planet into unprecedented conflict looked like. She was a humanoid, of average height, with a slender build, but what everyone noted most were the peculiar lines of dark hair just above her eyes and the mass of it that was braided into a knot on the back of her head. The room was quickly filled with whispers and then shouts. How could Valen have been attracted to someone so aberrant in appearance, they asked one another.

Catherine Sakai, none too pleased to be the center of this kind of attention, was brought into the room by Shaneer, widow of Kadenn of the Wind Swords clan, who practically threw her into the circle. This drew a sharp rebuke from Braoon, who was the current High Priest of the Great Temple of Varenni. Sakai staggered, then regained her balance, stood up straight and defiant, and searched the amphitheater for any sign of Valen. She didn’t see him, but she did notice Kosh glide quietly into the room. The crowd was so fixated upon her own appearance that it seemed no one was paying much attention to the Vorlon, which despite the situation, amused her faintly. There was some sort of delay, during which the crowd grew restless and more vitriolic. Gradually, the members of the Council of Elders arrived and took their places around the outside edges of the circle that contained the StarFire Wheel. Sakai inched her own way to the margins.

Finally, from another entrance, Valen was escorted into the room. Sakai almost cried aloud when she saw him. Not even Valen’s stately bearing could conceal the fact that he had been egregiously tortured. His shoulders seemed uneven, he moved slowly with a suppressed but distinct limp, and his face … Sakai could barely stand to look at him, seeing the agonies they had inflicted upon her beloved. Not for the first time, she wondered how he could be willing to live among and try to help a people who had, quite to the contrary, tried to destroy him so many times. 

One of the Warrior Caste elders ordered Valen to stop at the far side of the circle, but Valen ignored him and walked directly over to Sakai, his gaze steady and his brutalized face betraying no sign of pain. He seemed physically incapable of moving his arms, yet he leaned forward slightly to take her hands, bent down to whisper to her.

“Do you have it?”  
“Yes, Jeff, but…”  
“I love you Catherine; don’t worry, I know what’s coming.” He squeezed her hands and to the shared astonishment of both the gathered Minbari and Sakai, he kissed her, full on the lips. The crowd’s cumulative voices grew to an almost deafening roar, and he paused and looked silently beyond her, directly at Kosh. As he turned and stepped away from her into the circle, silence filled the hall. A small twitch beside his right eye, his halting gait and nearly immobile arms the only clues to the physical agony he was in, Valen began to pace around the perimeter of the well-lit circle.

“Over four cycles have passed since I came to walk among you, since I presented you with my great Gift; the base from which I have led you from certain defeat. Today, I stand before you not to deny the charges against me, nor to beg for my life, but to deliver to you the most important prophecy that I have to give.   
“Although you do not realize it, the decisions you make on this day will determine the course of events for the next thousand years. The challenge before you is not about me and how I conduct myself -- it is about the direction Minbar will journey – into the Darkness, or into the Light. Shall you continue to fight amongst yourselves and destroy anyone who is different, or will you choose to find a way to enrich the whole with your differences, to lay down arms against one another so that you can pick them up again as a united force against chaos and conflict and greed and ignorance? My own fate is insignificant, but Minbar’s fate, and her fate, the fate of Catherine Sakai…” he gestured as best he could to indicate his wife. “The ages will long remember your espousals in those regards as the most momentous in Minbari history, perhaps even for the Galaxy.” 

“When I came to you, I told you I was the Minbari not of Minbari, of not one of the three Castes and yet of all of them; that no woman who ever walked upon this soil carried me in her womb, nor did any man from this planet sire me. So why should it trouble you to learn that my wife is also not of Minbar? Her race calls itself ‘Human’ and some among them have a great destiny with which we dare not interfere. The Humans’ strength is that they do not seek conformity, they do not surrender. But out of their differences comes symmetry, a unique capacity to fight against impossible odds. Hurt them, and they only come back stronger. For now, you need know only that I have seen the future, and in it, I have seen that their passions will take them to a place in the stars, will propel them to a great destiny, and that Minbar’s destiny is inextricably bound to theirs. The Humans’ only weakness, our own weakness, is that they do not recognize their own greatness. They forget that they are better than they think and nobler than they know. They carry within them the capacity to walk among the stars like giants. They are the future and we have much to learn from them.” Valen paused before one of the gleaming power crystals in the chamber floor and weakly passed a hand across it. That act done, he resumed his oratory and his journey around the circle.

“But this is not yet the Humans’ time. This time is Minbar’s time, our opportunity to make a difference. The Humans’ will not come for ten centuries. Until then, we have but one of them, the one called Catherine Sakai. From the mingling of her blood and mine will come The One Who Is To Follow, who will unite all of the Younger Races and bring the next great prophecy -- one which I have seen but am not destined to bring to you.” 

“As to the matter which has brought me to this place, I have but one defense to make on my behalf, and it is the only argument that ever matters. It is the Calling of my Heart that has united me with Catherine Sakai, and no ruling of this Council, of the Minbari people or any other, can override that Calling.” Staring at Kosh, he stopped at the second crystal and ran his hand across it as well. That done, Valen looked up at the thousands of faces watching him in the galleries. “Even if it is my fate to die here today, you may keep the gifts that I have brought you, but upon one condition – you must guard her life, and the life of the child within her, because they contain the future – Minbar’s future – the hope of a place where no shadows fall. Remember this, if you remember nothing else which I say here today – they are your last, best hope for peace.” 

Valen paused in front of the final crystal, tried to draw himself up straight but failed, wincing. 

“I ask no one else to enter into the Fire, because I do not dispute the charges against me. Instead, I beg you to search your hearts and choose to enter into a covenant with me, one which will transform our world into something nobler and greater.” He touched the stone, and with a dramatic, thundering crackle, the giant iris in the ceiling spun open and a blinding shaft of light and heat stretched out to touch the floor, burning the rock it struck and sending clouds of molten ash into the air. At this, Sakai cried out, her sobbing echoing across the vast chamber.  
“No, Jeff! No!”  
“Do not cry, Catherine,” Valen said, turning to face her, “I have no wish to die, but it seems I must lay down my life so the Minbari will remember that what we want as individuals is never as important as being who we are. You know you wouldn’t love me if I were to disobey.” His head held high, Valen stepped deliberately into the StarFire Wheel.

The chamber itself seemed to grow blacker as the Fire gradually spread wider, and Valen could only be seen now as a colorless shadow balanced between the contrasting values of darkness and light. Valen turned away from Catherine and addressed an assembly he could no longer clearly see. 

“I am become Grey,” Valen announced in a strong voice, and at that moment, Sakai heard Kosh, whom she had utterly forgotten, speak from behind her.  
“Now!” Kosh said, and understanding his order at once, Sakai pulled the Triluminary from her coat and held it aloft. As the device burst into a purplish light, Catherine was thrown back against Kosh’s encounter suit by the force it generated. As she righted herself and looked back at the StarFire Wheel, she was left wide-eyed and breathless to behold not Valen, the Minbari prophet, there in the Triluminary’s light, but Jeffrey David Sinclair, the Human she re-envisioned him as whenever they were alone and she looked into his eyes. At first she thought she was imagining it, but then she heard Kosh intone “yes,” with some surprise in his own voice, and she knew he saw Sinclair as well.   
Despite the grave circumstances, Sakai smiled upon seeing Sinclair’s young and handsome face, with his thick dark hair and rugged features; no signs of recent trauma upon him at all. She missed that face, for in spite of all the trials he had been through as Sinclair, there was still an innocence, an eagerness in Sinclair’s expression that she had never witnessed in Valen’s visage. Did she imagine it, or did Sinclair meet her eyes and smile back?

On cue, as the Triluminary lit up, Valen continued speaking.  
“I stand between The Candle and The Star. Will you follow me into fire,” he challenged, “into storm, into darkness, into death?” His skin began to darken and then blister as he turned about to face another part of the room. “Will you?” Valen implored.

There was another blinding flash, and a narrow bolt of blue light shot out from the center of the Triluminary to the source of the StarFire Wheel in the room’s ceiling. Sakai labored to continue to hold the Triluminary over her head – the force of the energy passing through the device was tremendous, and she had to use both hands and widen her stance in order to maintain it aloft. Where once there had been but a single circle of light and heat encompassing Valen, now a ring of nine smaller roundels splintered off from the roof and orbited around his own. 

Out of the shadows, several figures emerged and approached the Wheel, moving as if in a trance, compelled by some force they neither questioned nor understood. The first of the Minbari who moved to join Valen was someone Sakai recognized at once – it was the High Priest, Braoon. Struggling against the fierce wind that drove the ten Fires into larger and hotter arcs, he fought his way into one of the rings. Next was the other priest, Nermer, who had greeted Valen when Sakai had first arrived in Tuzanor. Three warriors she didn’t know followed, along with a woman from the Workers’ Caste. Sakai was dumbfounded as she watched Rathmer, their cook and housekeeper, join Valen next, and thus barely noticed when another member of the Religious Caste and of the Workers’ filled the final columns that had been prepared for them. She was sure Valen knew who they all were.

“Will you follow me into fire,” Valen repeated, “into storm, into darkness, into death?” And as one, The Nine said:   
“Yes.”  
“We are Grey,” Valen shouted, his voice hoarse and barely audible above the increasingly loud humming and blowing sounds of the Fire, “we stand between the Darkness and the Light. We do this in testimony to the One Who Will Follow,” he continued, his voice more difficult to hear, his entire body shaking; “who will bring death couched in the promise of new life, and renewal disguised as defeat. From birth, through death and renewal, we must put aside old things, old fears, old lives. This is your death,” he hollered, driven to his knees by the force that continued to consume him, and with tears streaming down her face, Sakai dropped as well, struggling to continue to hold the Triluminary. Her grief was overwhelming, but she knew Jeff had spoken the truth. This was who he was and what he had to do – the least she could do, in love for him, in her own act of devotion to the future, was assist him in what appeared to be his final act. “The death of flesh, the death of pain, the death of yesterday. Taste of it, and be not afraid, for I am with you until the end of time.” Swaying, Valen fell onto his hands, barely off the ground, his clothes beginning to smolder, while the blood that fell from his mutilated arms and wrists sizzled and popped like hot oil. All could see that he was dying, and yet Valen still spoke; “Taste of it,” he whispered. 

A mechanical whir issued from behind Sakai, and she felt a cool and mysterious breeze blow across her. She knew it came from Kosh’s encounter suit, but was unwilling to take her eyes from Valen, fearing these might be the last seconds in which she would ever see him. A dull, beating sound filled the Temple of Varenni, and the assembly gasped as the angel Valeria rose from behind Valen’s wife and flew over to the dying prophet in the StarFire Wheel.

Valeria swept one of his enormous, incandescent white wings over Valen, and simultaneously, the Fire vanished, leaving the room illuminated even more brightly by the celestial light that emanated from Valeria. The angel reached down and lifted Valen to his feet, then, in a voice heard across the entire planet, intoned four triumphant words.

“And so, it begins,” Valeria heralded, and with his angelic hands, supported Valen as the later regained his voice and addressed the assembly for a final time.

“Before you stands The Grey Council, the One and the Nine Satai of all three Castes, who will lead Minbar from this day forth. Nevermore shall one Caste hold sway over another, for each provides an essential service to the collective society.” He turned to the grouped representatives in turn, as he finished; “You pray, you fight, you work. Without each of these components, Minbar would fall, so let no Minbari say to another that he or she is more important or superior to any other. The Council will serve as the Heart, the Voice and the Hands of the People Minbar. Leave us now, for there is much work ahead of us.” As rapidly as he had appeared, Valeria flew off and vanished into Kosh’s suit, plunging the room into blackness. Guided by instinct, Sakai and The Nine rushed forward in the dark to catch Valen as he fell.


	31. Infinities of Reflection

\-- 30 --  
\-- INFINITIES OF REFLECTION --

“That is what happened? The Council began with Valen surrendering utterly and miraculously surviving the StarFire Wheel? And Kosh did nothing but put in an appearance?” Delenn cried out in awe. “I was Satai and even I did not know the actual events that transpired that day? How could such a truth be lost?”  
“It was as Valen wanted. I cannot say whether or not Valen knew in advance that the Wheel would stop once The Nine filled their places, or that Kosh would step forward and add his imprimatur. I surmise he did not concern himself greatly with those questions. He did not wish his love for life and for Catherine to overshadow his mission. Minbar’s course was primal; he believed that as long as there were Nine who knew the truth, they would protect Catherine and her child in his absence. Upon surviving the fate he had embraced, Valen’s subsequent fear was that if an accurate accounting of his self-immolation at The Wheel were passed down, the people would forget his message and remember only the man. But as so often is the case for prophets and messiahs, people seem to find it simpler to idolize another than to live by their example. Despite Valen’s best attempts, more recalled his personal greatness than his goals.” Draal turned his head so he could catch Delenn’s eye.  
“But think of what else what we have seen has overthrown! My mother, Draal! She has spent her entire life as a Sister of Valeria, sacrificing her own freedom and all worldly comforts in gratitude to Valeria for redeeming Valen’s life! She left only to conceive me, and did that so she might donate me to the Temple as well. I have seen her but twice – I grew up with only a father’s love, Draal, and as great as that was, it was not enough. I always believed it was a tremendous honor for her to do this … but where is the honor in devoting oneself to a being who stood idly by while Valen surrendered his life? If she should worship anyone, it should be Valen himself, except that, as you note, Valen would not want her to honor him in such a way.”  
“Well now, Delenn – that’s rather harsh, isn’t it? Kosh did act so that your friend would be reunited with his great love, Catherine Sakai,” Draal offered.  
“But I have learned elsewhere, at great personal cost, what the real agenda of the Vorlons was, and a people who would decimate whole worlds simply to strike indirectly at their sworn enemy is not a race we should hallow with our lives. Kosh did not act to help Valen in the pure and selfless way in which Valen did for Minbar, but only because it was necessary in order to advance the Vorlons’ cause. If it didn’t serve his purposes, Kosh would not have done such a thing at all, any more than Ulkesh did when I begged him to help me learn if John had died at Z’ha’dum.”  
“Are you saying then, Delenn, that if one performs an act of great kindness that also favors one’s own objectives, the entire deed is tainted?”  
“One need only to witness Valen’s sublime self-subjugation, as we have just done, to experience such an epiphany.”  
“And that is what you still believe Valen did? He stepped into the Fire solely to bring salvation to Minbar?”  
“No, not just for Minbar, Draal,” Delenn said almost patronizingly, “but for all of the Younger Races. He did it in the same spirit with which John threw himself into the pit on Z’ha’dum -- that the Shadow War might ultimately be ended.” Frustrated, Delenn left her port into the Machine so she might confront Draal face-to-face. “Valen entered the Wheel in order to usher in the Second Age of Mankind, just as John facilitated the Third.”   
“And Sheridan also had nothing, no one else, in mind when he acted?”  
“Why are you asking me these contentious questions, Draal? Surely if you have seen all of this before, through The Great Machine, you do not need me to explain it to you.” She looked at Draal as if he were a small and particularly dense child.  
“I am attempting to clarify your doctrine and creed. Why, Delenn, do you perceive this as an attack? Is there some unbelief, some skepticism in your heart?” Delenn straightened her spine, drew herself up to her full height, and looked down her nose at Draal.  
“I am no mere acolyte you are speaking to, Draal. Need I remind you that Dukhat chose me above all others to ultimately represent our Caste at the highest level? Do you forget I was Satai?”  
“And as such, your faith is perfect, unwavering? And the basis of that faith is your belief that a truly sanctified act is one that permits no self-consideration at all? That is fundamental to your orthodoxy?” Again, Delenn’s reply came with more than a trace of zealousness.  
“The basis of my piety is no less than the truth of Valen’s devotion and motives. As you yourself pointed out, there is no evidence that he believed Kosh – or Valeria -- however one chooses to identify him, would save him from the all-consuming Fire.”  
“This is true. But Valen, as Sinclair – however one chooses to identify him,” Draal said mockingly, “was also greatly influenced by the Society of Jesus, a Human religious order. Does his own faith in a messiah other than himself impact his piety in your sight? Sinclair told Catherine that he believed it was his Catholic God who delivered her to him. He also had faith that this God would save his soul. So in that sense, Sinclair himself did not believe it was possible for him to perish in the StarFire Wheel. If Sinclair rejected the idea of the death of his personality, doesn’t that lower your estimation of what he did?” Unflustered, but annoyed by Draal’s continuing stupidity, Delenn shook her head.  
“It does not matter what Jeffrey Sinclair called The Universe, Draal, it is his motivation and actions that are important. And besides, he was right that our souls are eternal, even if he did not understand their transmigration. He saved mine quite literally when one of the Jhak’tot, the Soul Hunters,” she still pronounced their name with disgust and loathing, “came to Babylon 5 and tried to steal mine. In the process, Sinclair saw my soul, Draal, and through his actions I saw his. It was then that I knew the vision I had at the Battle of the Line was accurate – that Sinclair had a Minbari soul. As I have said to you before, Sinclair was a model of holiness. His motives, even before he became Valen, were always pure.” Draal laughed aloud, an enormous booming laugh that echoed throughout the underground chamber that contained The Great Machine. Delenn gaped at him in astonishment, that expression quickly replaced by one of anger, as she advanced at him, her fists clenched at her sides.  
“In Valen’s Name! How dare you?”   
“I’m sorry,” Draal interrupted, “I suppose I have seen too much … it amused and delighted me to see such unadulterated innocence still in your face and in your words. I would have thought that after all you’ve been through in the last few years that would have changed. Perhaps I even expected some cynicism. But your faith in Valen is so total, so complete … I do not know if I should allow you to see more, to hear words from his lips that may challenge your catechism, or if I would serve you both better by denying you further witness and preventing any possibility of altering your loyalty. Interesting. In light of your certainty, I find myself wondering if Sinclair would have pursued you, when you both lived on Babylon 5, had he known how you were attracted to him, that you married him?”  
“That is enough!” Delenn spat, “This, this ability of yours to see into the past has stripped you of all common decency!” She began to stride quickly from him until Draal’s next words froze her in place.  
“You think such a skill is necessary in order for me to know what you still feel for Sinclair? One need only look at your face when you watch him, indeed, when you merely hear his name. After The Line, whenever you looked at Sinclair, you always saw Valen. When you look at Valen, you just told me what you see … someone rather godlike, someone who is greater than Kosh, more hallowed than Valeria, first in your prayers above all the old gods … I suppose even Lorien, the First One, cannot measure up to your Valen, hmm? What else about Valen do you choose to imagine as being of supernatural proportions?”  
“You’re insane!”   
Draal laughed again, although not as loudly.  
“Ah. Well, I will admit to speaking what you consider unspeakable, but can you deny that you think of him often – even when you are alone with John Sheridan? There were others, when you were young, at Temple – one or two young men, I believe? A woman you were quite inseparable from for nearly four years? But you put them all aside long ago, didn’t you? You don’t think of any of them when John Sheridan kisses you and caresses you, but can you say the same – ‘In Valen’s Name’ -- of Sinclair? If you were genuinely troubled, if you really believed we were intruding upon his privacy when we watched him making love with Catherine Sakai, you could have looked away at any time – I wasn’t the one who kept us there, Delenn, and deep down inside, you know that. Go ahead, Delenn, leave. Take your flyer, return to Babylon 5, and never speak of your old teacher Draal again. It will not change what we both know to be true. At least Sinclair had the honesty to admit to himself and to Catherine that he was haunted by the same feelings. But ask yourself -- before, when you spoke of Valen’s divine motivation at the StarFire Wheel, was it because you need to ascribe such excessive righteousness to him in order to forgive yourself for your own worldly obsessions?” Delenn whirled about from where she stood, halfway out of the room.  
“You are the one in need of forgiveness, for this tirade against me and the greatest man who ever walked across Minbari soil! Why do you find it so impossible to believe Valen acted out of nothing less than divine self-sacrifice?”  
“I do not dispute that Valen was a truly great man, Delenn; I dispute that he was something beyond that, because your insistence to the contrary actually diminishes him. He would be the first to tell you he was prompted by something other than what you term ‘divine self-sacrifice.’”  
“On what basis do you make this pronouncement? Certainly not on the ancient texts handed down to us from a thousand years ago!”  
“No, but none of those books was written by Valen himself, was it? If such works ever existed, they are long gone now, lost forever. I base my statement upon Valen’s own words. I saw him tell Catherine that he entered the Wheel as much for her sake as for Minbar’s – a very mundane and personal motive, don’t you agree?”  
“What? No. If he said anything of the kind, I am sure it was only to spare her feelings. I doubt she would have been comfortable knowing he had truly chosen Minbar over…”  
“I quote Sinclair: ‘ignore the propaganda: focus on what you see,'” Draal said, indicating the empty access point to The Great Machine with a dramatic wave of his arm. Delenn stalked back to the place where she had spent the previous hours. “Remember, I will be here to offer you my help when you are done,“ Draal promised quietly. Delenn glared at him and sought out the place along the Path that joined all living things where she had left Valen.


	32. Lightning in the Splendor of the Moon

\-- 31 --  
\-- LIGHTNING IN THE SPLENDOR OF THE MOON --

Even as they hurried Valen from the StarFire Wheel Chamber, Sakai and The Nine couldn’t resist discussing their mutual curiosity about what they had experienced. While each of The Nine had received a bad sunburn, it was clear that most of the heat and power of the StarFire Wheel had remained focused in the center, on Valen, even after it had divided.

Nermer spoke of how, as he entered one of the smaller circles the Triluminary had generated, a wall of searing and almost unbearable heat immediately confronted him. Once he had pushed his way through that initial torment; fully committed himself to surrendering his life as Valen had requested, he found that the core of the circle was barely warm at all. The others concurred – standing there had been nothing like suffering through the heat of the Wheel itself, which Valen had endured for a longer period of time than any of them could recall someone withstanding.

“No one has ever remained in the StarFire Wheel that long and left it in any form other than ashes,” Nermer remarked with awe.  
“No one has ever left the Wheel in triumph, rather than failure,” Braoon added. “Minbar has witnessed an ineffable miracle on this day.” Sakai couldn’t perceive how any one could interpret Sinclair’s current condition as triumphant, but she kept her peace. Rathmer tried to catch her eye as the fallen prophet was being transferred to a room above ground in the Temple, where several Minbari physicians were already waiting.

“He appeared to me…” began Rathmer; “he appeared to me as … as like you? Human?” This came as a surprise to Sakai – she assumed only she and Kosh had seen Valen as Sinclair.   
“He did? To you as well? That is who he was before…” she began, but her attentions were immediately redirected to Valen, who, unconscious, was moaning in pain. 

She wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but drew back as they moved into the light and the full extent of his injuries became evident. His once fair skin appeared as dark and dry as old leather, and even the horn on his head was charred and lusterless. Clearly The Nine had experienced nothing close to what he had. Nor, Sakai noted bitterly to herself, had they been tortured by the Wind Swords for violating the so-called purity of the Minbari race. She looked down at Valen again with pity. They had broken his nose, his eyes were swollen shut, a huge gash in his forehead still seeped blood, and now Sakai could see Valen’s dislocated shoulder, the open slashes along his legs where they had struck him, and the hideous wounds on his wrists where he had been bound and hung. Substitute that crown of horn for a wreath of thorns, she thought, and he’d look exactly like something you might find hanging above an altar in a medieval church on Earth.

As they reached the door, she whirled about and spun into action.   
“Wait!” Sakai commanded, and she drew the nine Satai away from the assembled medical team. When she spoke next, it was firmly but quietly, so none of the other Minbari might hear her. “Did the others watching see Valen’s True Face?”  
“They saw nothing” assured Braoon, “they saw only Valen. Of this I am certain. Until I stepped into the circle, I saw him as we have all come to know him. It was only different … there. Inside the Fire. That was how I came to understand… that one of your people would do this for Minbar…”  
“Yes, it is as Braoon says,” agreed another, and the remaining seven members of The Nine nodded in assent.  
“Then we must make sure they never find out! No one outside The Council must ever know that Valen is not fully Minbari – there is too much you and he have to do – we can’t risk giving the people any reason to question his identity.” It was strange to be commanding some of the same people who had only hours before wanted to kill her, but Sakai had no time to dwell on such observations. If Valen was unable to speak for himself, she would have to do so for him, and The Nine automatically recognized her authority in this regard. “You see, Valen is not as Minbari as you think he is, even now. If we ask your doctors to take an oath of secrecy, can we trust them? If we can’t be certain of that, if they treat him and see him … they’ll have to be silenced.” She panned across the faces of the women and men who had themselves chosen to die with Valen. Accordingly, she saw only nods of assent. One of the Worker Caste women stepped forward.  
“I'm a doctor. Dismiss these others. I will call upon them only if absolutely necessary. I’ll instruct the rest of you so you may help me minister to The Chosen One.”   
“There is a device hidden in the bathroom of our house that may prove of some use.”  
“I will retrieve it,” volunteered Rathmer. 

With that, Sakai at last ran out of the adrenaline that had kept her going since that terrible moment the day before when they had been discovered. She leaned against the wall and allowed the rest of the group to take over. Hours passed and she knew she answered other questions. She remembered the Satai who was a doctor taking readings and samples from her to use as reference, and vaguely recalled instructing that another home must be found for Valen before he recovered, for neither she nor he nor anyone else would be allowed to dwell again in the house where Zathras had been martyred. Not until that day in 2259 when Sinclair would return to Minbar. But that was an unimportant detail when compared to her preoccupation with Valen’s survival. 

At some point, all that could be done for him was done, and Sakai dismissed The Council, although the Warrior Caste members chose to stand guard beyond the door. Exhausted, she stretched herself out along the edge of the narrow bed on which Valen lay, and fell asleep. 

Valen himself slept through the next three days, during which time he was moved from the Temple of Varenni to a new, if temporary, home in Yedor. Sakai was sitting at his bedside, dozing on and off herself, when she at last heard the sound of Valen's voice – rough and uncertain, but distinctly his.

“Catherine?” he asked hesitantly. “Am I … am I alive?” he queried with surprise, opening his puffy eyelids a hair’s breath.  
“Don’t you think Heaven would look a lot better than this?” she razzed him, carefully taking his hand. Valen tried to smile.  
“At least I know it’s not Hell, because you’re here.”  
“Listen to you – forever the mushy sentimentalist – how come you never talk to the Minbari like that?”  
“They wouldn’t appreciate it the way you do,” he whispered, then groaned when she leaned down and kissed his burned lips. “Ow! I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but don’t do that again!”  
“You still haven’t learned that you shouldn’t tell me what to do?” Sakai replied, purposely kissing him again, although more gently. Once more, he winced, but this time with a faint suggestion of a smile. “Now we’re even for that miserable suicide attempt of yours. And by the way – if you ever try to pull another stunt like that…”  
“No need for worries there -- from now on, I’ll be leaving all the high drama to the Vorlons,” he promised. He tried to move, then grumbled again. “Do I look as bad as I feel?”  
“Pretty bad, but a lot better than you did before we fixed you up – lucky for you one of The Nine is an excellent physician.”  
“Sounds like I’m going to need you to fill me in on quite a bit – I don’t remember much of what happened after I entered the Wheel. How long has it been, anyway?”  
“Not long – four nights maybe – I’ve been kind of out of it myself. But I guess I’ve started the Minbari on their route to technological superiority, because I gave them the medical kit from B4 to use on you. The doctor was rather impressed with what it could do, and she seems to think that you’ll be up and about in a day … or not, if you aren’t ready,” she added, seeing the pain on his face. “And we’re in Yedor now, staying at a house loaned to us by one of The Nine until you’re ready to leave. I really like this feature – watch.” 

Sakai left his side to press a button on the wall. A sheet of opaque material pulled into a hidden slot to reveal a translucent, pale blue wall through which they could see a garden, the clear night sky, and a glimpse of the capital city beyond. Tentatively, Valen tried to lift his shoulders and turn his head to look, and seemed surprised to find he could do so without too much distress. He saw the magnificent view beyond Sakai and smiled.  
“And you tried to convince me I wasn’t in Heaven.” He leaned back and sighed. “After what I went through ... I’d just love to walk out under the stars. I can’t believe I’m really alive!”  
“Well, you are,” she cooed softly, “want to go outside and see? Tadoor – she’s the doctor – says neither of your legs were broken, although I was pretty amazed, given how badly they’d beaten you. It’s the burns you received in the StarFire Wheel that are going to take the most time to heal.” Valen moved around a bit, testing himself out, then nodded.  
“Yeah, I think I'd like to go outside.” 

Sakai returned to him, found him some slippers and offered him her shoulder to lean on as he rose. Slowly, they walked through a doorway from the bedroom to the garden, where they ambled briefly. Valen’s strength began flagging as a stone bench came into view, so they changed course slightly and headed for it. He sat down on it gingerly, and Sakai plunked herself down on the ground beside him, leaning against the end of the rock seat. They rested there in quiet inertia, watching small bat-like creatures dive at insects, staring at the constant stars. Valen seemed bewildered at being alive, and Sakai watched him sympathetically. 

“Jeff? Can I ask you a couple of questions about exactly what happened – I know what I saw, but I don’t understand all of it.”   
“Sure – what do you want to know – I’ll try my best to make sense of it.”  
“For starters, Kosh came to see me -- but he didn’t seem to have a clue about either of us, which really confused me.”  
“Well,” Valen began, clearing his throat; “this is the first time he’s met us. The Vorlons have been manipulating the Humans and Minbari, grooming us to fill some role in their conflict with the Shadows, but they couldn’t predict everything. Too many variables – evolution, accidental deaths, free will, you get the picture. That’s why Kosh had to travel back to rescue you for me – they didn’t account for what a mess I would be without you. The Vorlons planned for someone from the future to come back and take on a role in Minbari culture, but there was no way they could control or know just who that would be! All the Vorlons of this time could know for sure was that person would have the Triluminary with him or her and have undergone a transformation.” He paused again, looked down and tried flexing his fingers, studied the bandages on his wrists. “All along the Vorlons have seemed extraordinarily aloof to me – not that I can describe how -- but I got the feeling they were watching me. It didn’t occur to me until the night before the trial that they simply didn’t know who I was! I thought they were displeased with my performance, but maybe they were just waiting for a sign. I guess my willingness to die for the cause convinced Kosh I was The One.”  
“Why didn’t you ever explain the Triluminary to me before? You used it somehow to make this change, didn’t you?”  
“To answer your second question first, yes. To the first … maybe I was afraid you’d insist on trying to have it adjusted so you could use it too, to blend in … but I didn’t want you to blend in – I needed you to be Human so I could remember that I was as well. I also didn’t know everything else the Triluminary could do, or what would happen – not at first.”  
“What is it supposed to do -- sometimes when I held it, it glowed, and sometimes it didn’t. Why was that?”  
“It glowed when you were alone?” he asked in surprise, looking down at her, “Outside of the StarFire Wheel Chamber?”  
“Yeah.”  
“That's odd … it shouldn’t have done that at all – Zathras told me it was keyed to me, designed to respond to my DNA alone. Unless … of course! You’re pregnant – it must have registered the parts of my genetic code that are fused with yours inside our child.”  
“Does that mean it’s affected the baby somehow?” she asked with sudden concern.  
“No, to have any metamorphic effects, you’d need the entire Triluminary machine, which I disassembled after I was done with it and deposited in The Sanctuary for Delenn to use one day.”  
“I thought you just said it wouldn’t work for anyone else.”  
“Not for anyone who doesn’t have some genetic connection to me. But according to Zathras…” he paused as the visage of his late comrade appeared in his mind, “according to Zathras, Delenn is directly descended from me.”  
“So you lied to me when you said you didn’t think we could have children? You knew all along that you would? How could you keep something like that from me?” Sakai declared hotly, turning around to confront him. Valen shook his head from side to side, moved over on the bench and gestured for her to sit beside him. With a show of indignation, she complied.  
“The truth is, Cath, that there were strong indications to me in what I’d read about Valen that he had kids. But there wasn’t any reference as to who the mother of those children would be, and Zathras wouldn’t tell me anything either. I was afraid … I was so afraid … that it wasn’t you.” Catherine digested this information slowly. “You know I’d never be unfaithful to you, Catherine, which left only one possibility once you were here … and I didn’t want to consider the implications of that.” Sakai studied him in the moonlight, then gently and wordlessly leaned her head against his shoulder. Deliberately, still wary of his injuries, Valen put an arm around her as he looked up at the slowly moving clouds that occasionally obscured the stars. After a while, he lowered his face to see the woman beside him. 

“I can’t tell you all of the things I do know about the future – sometimes I wonder why Zathras told me so much. I’m finding it more a burden than a gift to have foreknowledge. Maybe he knew that he would be murdered, and that I’d be unable to turn to him for direction. But I won’t keep any new secrets from you, Catherine, and I’m never going leave you – never. I want to make this – all this – up to you, Cath,” he said, slowly turning towards her and reaching out to hold her hand with both of his own. “I’ve been thinking about how I've made a lot of tired old mistakes. Long ago, on Babylon 5, Garibaldi accused me of purposefully putting my life ‘on the line’ -- he thought it was because in the wake of the War, I didn’t fit in anymore. He said I was ‘looking for something worth dying for because it's easier than finding something worth living for’. Then, one day I get a letter to myself; ‘hello, Jeff, you’re Valen,’ and there it was – instant purpose, instant identity. I’m not sorry I chose to make that commitment, it was what I was intended to do, but I see now there was something wrong in the way I approached it. I saw coming here as an act of self-denial, as a new form of suicide. I gave up on love, companionship and friendship; I surrendered entirely to those things you always admonished me against making the sole focus of my life; discipline, obligation, and order. Before I knew it, I didn’t have dreams for myself any longer. Until you arrived, I was focused only on who I needed to be. I never asked myself what I wanted, and that nearly drove me insane.”  
“And now?”   
“I’m someone else now. I’m in balance; I’m holding fast to the center. Things will be different from now on, I promise. Catherine …I love you, and, well, I have a big secret – think you can keep it from the Minbari? I know this will make me sound like Kosh, but they aren’t ready for this information yet.” Valen smiled at her disarmingly, and Catherine edged forward a bit in anticipation. “When I started this journey, when I left our time to become Valen, I did it for Minbar, for Earth, for the Galaxy. I thought I’d lost you forever, and I was glad to have finally found some meaning in my life. But at the Wheel, it all came together at last – I entered it for the cause, and I entered it to save you. All that I needed to do and all that I wanted turned out to be identical! Catherine, I’m through trying to live a life with two identities. I refuse to ‘play’ the part of Valen any more, or to suppress me. The Minbari will of course call me ‘Valen,’ and you…” he paused, reached over to stroke Catherine’s face, drank in the sight of her beside him with obvious intoxication, “you can call me whatever you want – Jeff or Valen -- either one is fine by me, because from now on, those two men are going to be one and the same. I’m done trying to hide part of myself from the Minbari; the part of me that needs and respects and loves you; the part of me that’s Human, but I also can’t keep being defensive about Valen and his mission and his future history. It won’t all be pretty. Can you handle that?”  
“Yes,” Sakai said, gazing into his eyes, thrilled to see such peace in his face. It shone through the remnants of burned and peeling skin that marred his physical body. “But Jeff … Valen, I don’t want you to compromise the mission for me, and I don’t want you to promise me the impossible. Just tell me the truth, and I’ll learn how to cope with it. It’s important to me that you know that.”  
“You know what, Cath? Even after what we just went through, I’m glad I chose to put you first for a while. I wouldn’t pass up making love with you, celebrating with you the other afternoon, if it meant my eternal soul. It almost got me killed, at a point when I didn’t want to die, but I’ve never felt so grateful to be alive, so at peace as I did with you then – it may be the only time in my life that I didn’t feel some sort of sorrow or regret hanging over my head. I want more days like that, Catherine.”  
“So why is it we never read anything about Valen being happy in any of the ancient texts ...”  
“I used to wonder about that too, but now I understand. It’s just too private, Catherine; it’s too special and it’s no one else’s business but our own. But from now on, I’m concentrating on those three things I instructed you and the other Rangers in – ‘delight, respect and compassion’ – and ‘delight’ is definitely going to be prioritized. Catherine, I heard what you said … when I asked you what you really wanted? Once the War is over, however long that takes; as soon as I think the Minbari can manage without me, I will go away with you someplace. Someplace where you and our children come first.”  
“But how can you possibly keep a promise like that? What will the Minbari think if you leave them?”  
“Want to hear me issue a prophesy again?” he grinned. “They'll be confused. It’ll be easier for them to condemn themselves than to accept a new way of thinking, so they'll conclude that they are so ‘inferior’ by comparison to Valen – can you see the quotation marks around that,” he laughed, “that their version of reality will be that I was compelled to remove myself from their pallid and selfish selves in order to maintain my spiritual ‘purity.' And just as long as no one else goes jumping into that damn StarFire Wheel in emulation of me, I'll be satisfied.”

Draal watched Delenn carefully, saw the blood drain from her face while Valen spoke, his words seemingly addressed directly at her. Delenn said nothing, staring down the Path, transfixed. Naturally unaware of their presence, Valen continued.

“In the end the Minbari will manage just fine – as soon as they realize that they can't be the automatons who exist only for the collective that the Vorlons want them to be. Frankly, I think the Vorlons made that mistake themselves so long ago they can’t do anything about it – I think that’s why my love for you made such an impression on Kosh. Overall, the Vorlons are so single-mindedly devoted to the War that I wonder sometimes if they even know why they’re fighting it. When I thought about this aboard Kosh’s ship, the only answer I seemed to get was that opposing the Shadows was an imperative – hardly an answer at all! But maybe I’ve educated him now,” Valen said with a wide and mischievous smile. “I hope he’ll be able to help out Delenn and John Sheridan when their turn to fight this War comes around.” A contented silence fell between Valen and Sakai as they returned their attentions to the chilly night air; the stars and moons in the sky, the bugs and pollen floating around them, and a Minbari mouse with neon pink fur that dared to scurry across the top of Valen’s shoe before disappearing into the underbrush.

In time, Valen smiled an half-smile on the right side of his face at Catherine and lightened up the conversation. “So how many kids do you want to have anyway?”  
“Enough to populate this mystery planet we’ll be moving to.”  
“That’s a tall order,” he grinned, “I hope I can rise to the occasion.”  
“If you hadn’t already been ‘pun’-ished severely in the last week, I’d have to hurt you for that word play, you know,” she laughed back happily. “Are you cold? I’m getting cold.”   
“You’re asking me if I’m cold? After where I’ve been?” Valen asked her pointedly, and she cringed slightly for having asked the question. “But sure, let’s go back inside – I think walking forty feet was enough for me tonight. Especially since I never even expected to be alive!”


	33. Closing the Window

\-- 33 --  
\-- CLOSING THE WINDOW –

As they returned to the house, Valen leaned on his wife’s shoulder a bit more than he had when they’d left it. After she’d helped him back into bed, Sakai hurried to the kitchen to bring him a light meal. When she returned, she found Valen sitting up in bed, resting his face against his interlaced fingers. His sorrowfulness seemed to fill the room. Sakai put the bowl of food aside and sat down next to him, waiting for him to speak.

“Zathras,” he said, “I was just thinking about poor Zathras.” He looked up sadly and seriously at Sakai. “That’s a lesson I intend to teach the Minbari – and this kid we’re having --” he added, faintly smiling, “we should never let a single day go by when we don’t thank those who’ve helped us and tell those we love that we love them. That’s a mistake I won’t make again.” He reached over and spun the ring on Catherine’s left hand around and around. “I didn’t thank Zathras often enough. Sometimes I even got annoyed with him and let that irritation show. But I couldn’t have made it as far as I did without him, and I could never finish pulling this job off without the information he gave me.” His brow furrowed pensively. “I won’t go back to the house, Catherine. Except to visit his grave and pay respects. I can’t live there any more. Not in this lifetime.”  
“I know. I already took care of it.” He watched her questioningly. “It’s funny in an ironic, black humor sort of way – one day everyone on Minbar thinks you’ve committed some act of extreme perversion by being with me, and the next they’re all begging me to ‘honor’ them by taking over their house. Some truly beautiful places have been offered to us,” she mused, “including this one, but I didn’t accept anything -- I didn’t know if you’d want to leave Tuzanor or not.”  
“Leave The City of Sorrows? No, I don’t think so, Catherine.” Valen sighed and paused again. “If Tennyson was right, that ‘a sorrow’s crown of sorrow is remembering happier things,’ then there’s no other place on Minbar I can possibly live,” he explained. “Sometimes sorrow is a good thing. Sometimes it keeps important lessons close at hand. As long as we’re here, I’d prefer to live in Tuzanor… if that’s okay with you?” Valen waited for her to nod in approval before he picked up the bowl of food and began to eat. As she watched him, Sakai realized she still hadn’t received an adequate explanation of what had happened in the StarFire Wheel.  
“Valen,” she said, testing out the name as a form of address between them by saying it for only the third or fourth time neither in jest nor in belligerence, “can you tell me more about the Triluminary – did you know when you stepped into the Wheel what would happen?” If her partner noticed the change in nomenclature, he didn’t react, for it at last seemed natural to him.  
“Not when they first took me away; not when I first asked you to find it. I was pretty much stabbing in the dark at that point. Then the Wind Swords did their customarily outstanding job at beating me into a previous incarnation, and while I hung there I kept thinking about The Council Chamber, that first time I saw it, on The Line. I also reflected on The Grey Council oath, about ‘The Candle and The Star.’ I’d realized the ‘Star’ had to be the StarFire Wheel as soon as I’d first heard about it as Ambassador. But the ‘Candle’ … that took me a while to decipher. I recalled the Chamber again. There was a rotating device in the center of the room that generated ten circles of light. They’d had me in the middle, surrounded, and when I stepped outside of that spot, one of them zapped me with the Triluminary. I thought about the way the StarFire Wheel spins out from the ceiling, I thought about The One and The Nine, I thought about the Vorlons and recalled the assassination attempt on Kosh. It only got as far as it did because Kosh opened his suit to greet me … but from now until then, he should only have known me as Valen, right? You and Zathras are the only ones who could be familiar with me as Sinclair. So why would he have believed that he recognized me, in my Human form, in 2257 if I’d never met him as Sinclair? Where and when could he have seen me? And how? Let me ask you – who did you see when you looked through the light of the Triluminary?”  
“You. I saw you. But as…”  
“As Sinclair, right? Not Valen. Not like this?”  
“Yes – all of The Nine did! And Kosh too. But everyone else just saw Valen. How did you know?”  
“Well, if you want the full answer, you have to know first that it relates to a kind of a touchy subject.” Sakai folded her arms and rolled her eyes melodramatically.  
“Let me guess – it’s Delenn again, right? Go on.”  
“I always felt that she knew something about me – something more than I knew myself. On Babylon 5, I saved her life and while she was half-asleep in MedLab, she looked at me and said; ‘we were right about you.’ Considering the source, and what took place between us, that wasn’t exactly a statement I was going to forget.” Catherine shifted position on the bed beside him. “See – I knew you’d get upset if I mentioned Delenn again.”  
“I’m not upset, it’s just, well, it's awkward learning I had a bit of a rival. But I’ll live,” she smiled, “go on – finish your explanation.”  
“Anyway, there was her insistence that I had a ‘Minbari soul.' I started wondering, what if Delenn saw my other self, the self that’s most important to her, when The Council held the Triluminary up to me on The Line? What was it that convinced them I had a 'Minbari soul' – was it seeing me as a Minbari, as Valen? What if it worked the other way around – now that I look Minbari – would the Triluminary show me to be Human? My main concern after we were exposed was to save your life, and to do that I had to somehow convince them that it was okay for Valen to have slept with a non-Minbari. Surely, I thought, if they could see that I wasn’t Minbari, that had to change things! And if not, if worse came to worst, maybe seeing a non-Minbari die in a method they considered honorable would help.”  
“That was a hell of a thing to pin our hopes on!”  
“True, but I didn’t have much else. Just faith.” Valen closed his eyes and thought silently for a while. “’More things are wrought by prayer/Than this world dreams of,’” he quoted, and simultaneously he and Sakai pronounced; “Tennyson.”  
“Of course,” she smiled, and he opened his eyes to exchange a sheepish glance with her, before closing them again in exhaustion. “Valen?”  
“Hmm?”  
“What you’re telling me is that in the light of the Triluminary, we saw who you really are – what I suppose you and the Minbari would consider your ‘soul’?”  
“That’s right,” he agreed, opening his eyes again.  
“Well, when I saw you, you looked just like Jeffrey Sinclair always did – but with one exception…”  
“What was it? Did you see me looking old and worn, with grey hair; because as I said, traveling to B4 aged the hell out of me.”  
“No, you were your youthful, debonair, Human self, but you had this huge scar – right there –“ she pointed to his left cheek, careful not to touch his slowly healing skin. “What was that from? What did you go through that I don’t already know about, that left a scar on your soul? Was it something they did to you on The Line…?”  
“No,” Valen replied slowly, putting down his bowl and cautiously touching his face, as if he could still feel the line of scar tissue that the Chrysalis had erased from ordinary view. “No, that happened to me at my very worst moment, one that made The Line and everything that happened there feel almost insignificant. It happened when your ship was lost to the rift and I found myself unable to reach you. I’m glad for you that you never remembered any of it. I just sat there in space, watching helplessly while your vessel spun out of reach … the Shadows came between us as the rift closed, and their ship was caught by the rift and destroyed. A fragment of it tore through the cockpit, right through my helmet and struck me, right here.” He traced a line shaped roughly like a ‘7’ on his cheek. “But the real damage … it ripped a hole straight through my heart, Catherine.” She tilted her head at an angle as she listened empathetically. “The doctors on Minbar wanted to remove it, of course; Rathenn and the others seemed quite disturbed to see the Entil’Zha cut up like some ordinary soldier, but I wouldn’t hear of it. That ugly scar was all the proof I had left that you’d ever been with me at all. And it reminded me, every day, that I’d been responsible for you, that you were under my command when the accident happened, and that I’d failed you. To tell you the truth, when I emerged from the Chrysalis as Valen, with this Minbari face, I was really bothered that it was gone. Gone everywhere, I suppose, but on my soul. It’s there forever.” 

Sakai wanted to chide him, to instruct him not to feel as though what had happened was his fault, not then and not now, but she could see that he wouldn’t be the least bit susceptible to logic at that moment, so she let it pass. She’d wait until he’d recovered, until he was strong again, and then she’d take him on, head to head, as an equal opponent. She bit down on a small smile – it wouldn’t be appropriate now to let him know how much she loved sparing with him.

They both turned toward the bedroom door at the sound of someone approaching, thoughts of the last time their privacy had been violated at the forefront of both their minds. Sakai rose warily, only marginally relieved to discover their unexpected and uninvited visitor was Kosh. Before she could demand to know how he had gotten into the house, Kosh warded off Sakai’s question with a query of his own.

“You will recover?” the Vorlon asked, gliding up beside the bed to face Valen.   
“No thanks to you!” Sakai snapped back, finding herself just as startled as Kosh and Valen were to hear her anger expressed aloud. “Why the hell didn’t you fly over and protect him sooner? What were you waiting for?”  
“I sought understanding. I listened to the song. His thoughts became the song.” Sakai was too annoyed with Kosh to notice that Valen was actually nodding in comprehension; instead, she challenged Kosh again.  
“Trying to understand what?”  
“Sinclair,” Kosh replied. “He is The One.”  
“Well I tried to tell you that myself! He didn’t have to be beaten and burned within an inch of his life for you to learn that! How could you let him suffer like that….” Valen raised a hand and stopped her.  
“It’s all right, Cath. It was right that Kosh didn’t intervene – it was a process.”  
“Now you’re talking just like he does! What was a process? Didn’t you want him to help you?”  
“Well, yes, but as I told you before I entered the Wheel, what I wanted was immaterial. It was necessary for me to be who I am, to be who the Minbari needed. I was ‘seeking understanding too,’” Valen said, with a glance at their surprise guest.  
“Again I ask – of what?”  
“Sinclair,” Kosh repeated, and Valen nodded again. Sakai looked back and forth between the two of them.  
“I don’t believe this! Am I the only one here who needs to hear more than a single word, accompanied by discordant musical sounds, in order to know what the hell is going on?”  
“Yes,” said Kosh, and Valen laughed briefly, before leaning wearily against the wall behind the head of his bed.  
“What did you come here to tell me, Kosh?”   
“A ritual. Gratitude. You must be informed.” It took Sakai a moment to understand that this was the Vorlon’s way of saying “thank you.”  
“I can count on your support then, during the remainder of the Great War?” Valen asked, seeking clarification himself.  
“Yes.”  
“There are First Ones at Sigma 957 – you'll help me contact them, bring them into my coalition?”  
“Yes.”  
“And you’ll back my decisions for Minbar?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you speak for yourself alone, or for all of the Vorlons?”  
“I am Naranek. They will listen and obey.”  
“Well, good then.” He paused, and Kosh spoke again.  
“A question,” the Vorlon intoned, and Valen tilted his head quizzically. “There is a stanza, a pause … in your mind. Let me hear it again.”  
“What moment?” Valen replied with interest. “What are you talking about?”  
“There is,” Kosh began, “a hole in your mind …” At that familiar phrase, the taunt that had shadowed Sinclair across a millennium, Valen’s brow furrowed and Sakai shook her head. “Take me there,” commanded Kosh, and to Sakai’s surprise, her husband nodded in consent and closed his eyes.

With a low hum, the top portion of Kosh’s encounter suit disengaged and rose into the air, high above the collar. Sakai gasped with surprise as a steady stream of nearly blinding white light flowed out of the open encounter suit. Her surprise was less at the sight itself, which was marginally familiar to her in the aftermath of the Trial, and more in response to the emotions seeing Kosh inspired in her this time. Before, in the Temple of Varenni, she had focused wholly on Valen and his fate and the surprise of seeing him as Sinclair again. That preoccupation had rendered her nearly oblivious to Kosh. But now, as the wave of light caressed Valen’s face, Sakai felt a sense of wonderment, of wellbeing and certainty that she had never experienced before. Something or someone seemed to be assuring her that she belonged there, that things were the way they were supposed to be. Sakai found it extremely difficult to pull her eyes away from the light pouring out of Kosh’s encounter suit and look over at Valen instead. Once she finally did so, fear and concern quickly replaced the peace she had been experiencing.

For Valen’s face displayed pure anguish. His jaw was locked tight with tension, and his eyes were wide open and almost bulging from their sockets. He seemed to be staring at a point in the distance somewhere beyond Kosh. Gradually Sakai realized what was happening – Kosh wasn’t just glancing into Valen’s mind – he was forcing him to relive the damned Earth-Minbari War again. She knew Valen had given his consent, but she couldn’t just stand by and watch him suffer – not again. 

Sakai started toward the Vorlon in fury. She had no idea what she could possibly do to stop him, but her intentions were clear enough. Before she could complete a single step, before her cry of “no” could make it from her brain to her lips, another arm of light flew out of Kosh’s encounter suit and struck her, hard, like a slap across the face.

She saw it all, saw it as though she were in the cockpit, in Jeff’s body; she saw it through his eyes. A voice cried out.  
“Alpha Leader! There’s a Minbari on your tail!” The green light of alien gunfire blazed to either side of them. In her mind, Sakai heard Sinclair’s thoughts as amplified by Kosh’s presence; in that moment, all three of them were Sinclair. “How?” he was thinking, not in relief, but in amazement. How did they just miss me with those four shots? A Starfury sped past them. No! It was Mitchell! I told him to stay put – to hold The Line no matter what! Why didn’t he listen? Why did he never listen?  
“I’m on him!”  
“No! Mitchell! Stay in formation! It might be a … Oh my God!”

Space erupted with the flashing blue light of opening jump points. Tens, dozens, scores of jump points. The color of space itself seemed to change from black to brilliant cobalt blue. And in the foreground, against that unnatural blue sky, floated the broken pieces of Alpha Squadron – Mitchell’s headless helmet blew by, the Death’s Hand Squadron emblem still visible on its carbon-scored sides. An arm here, more wreckage there. 

And still the Minbari kept coming. It was incomprehensible, a nightmare given form. There was no hope, no hope at all … Sinclair’s hands froze on the controls. He was trembling violently, involuntarily, and completely unable to form the thoughts necessary to act. 

Kosh and Sakai saw it all with him; as each additional jump point opened and more and more enemy ships poured into the solar system, they saw what Sinclair later described as the death of the whole damn Human race. For five or ten seemingly endless seconds they watched, petrified, as unending numbers of enormous blue ships took over the sky. No matter where Sinclair turned, the Minbari were there, accompanied by the stars, the brilliant, exploding stars. The sky was full of them, and every star was an exploding ship – one of Earth’s.

Sinclair had never told Sakai, or anyone for that matter, that he had temporarily lost the ability to move, to think, to process any of it. That omission rose not so much from a sense of shame, but from an inability on his part to describe the total sensory overload that was The Battle of The Line. But now she knew. And so she understood why when she had first seen him after the War, he had been practically unrecognizable. Who could have witnessed that sight and remained whole? How had he stayed sane at all? How had he ever forgiven the Minbari – forgiven them enough to work alongside them, to befriend them, to become one of them? Was this what Kosh had been questioning? Apparently not, for the nightmare continued to unfold.

A violent blow rocked Sinclair out of paralysis and his Starfury wheeled around wildly.  
“Aft stabilizers hit,” the computer droned, as Sinclair fought futilely for control of his crippled vessel. “Weapons systems at zero. Defensive grid at zero. Power plant near critical mass, Minbari targeting systems locking on …”  
“Not like this, not like this,” he growled with primal fury, “if I’m going out, I’m taking you bastards with me! Target main cruiser. Set for full velocity ram. Afterburners on my mark … Mark!” 

Another jolt and they were racing toward the Minbari cruiser, full speed. The mottled blue sides of the cruiser loomed larger and larger, filling the window. On reflex, Sinclair glanced down at the bright red cockpit display as it frantically flashed the words “Collision Alert.” But he never read it. His mind was blank of all thought. Sakai and Kosh felt the blood burning in his veins, his heart pounding a desperate staccato, the g-force pressure pinning him against the backrest in the cockpit, but his mind was empty, almost calm. Sinclair had become his actions – nothing more, nothing less. 

This wasn’t the hole Kosh had questioned either.

Something dark and indeterminate -- a shadow -- passed before their eyes. There was a flash of light and Sinclair instinctively threw his arms up in front of his visor. His mind was awake again, for it wasn’t easy to accept the terror of death, even if you’d committed yourself to it. Sinclair and Sakai screamed together. 

But the expected impact never came. 

Gasping for air, Sakai opened her eyes and caught the last burst of light as Kosh’s suit returned to its usual configuration. She blinked rapidly, unsure of what they had observed in those final seconds. She turned to Valen, who dropped his haggard face into his hands and rubbed his eyes, as he too exhaled deeply. Alert again, she raced to his side, threw herself down beside him and leaned forward anxiously. Valen lifted one hand to the side of his face in reassurance, then finally lowered both of his hands and raised his head, slowly opening his eyes. 

Stunningly, Valen’s expression was serene and his eyes glittered as if he had just had some kind of divine revelation. 

Kosh’s suit emitted a familiar pattern of discordant notes, vocalizations and chimes before his synthesized voice addressed Valen in words. Later, Sakai would realize the tone of that voice revealed the same sense of surprise she had detected when Kosh had muttered “yes” behind her while Valen was being consumed in the StarFire Wheel.

“I listened to your song. In the silence I heard … myself. It will be me you will see … at The Battle of The Line.” Valen nodded silently in agreement and Kosh bowed and withdrew. Sakai brought a hand to her chest, still trying to catch her breath and purge the afterimage of those hundreds of jump points from her mind.   
“Come here,” Valen whispered, carefully putting one of his damaged arms around her waist and pulling her close. “Are you all right? I’m sorry Kosh did that to you – I’m really sorry, Cath. I would have stopped him if I could have … You saw it all with me, didn’t you? I thought I felt you there this time.” Sakai nodded. “I’m sorry. But now you know – now we understand it all. I can’t believe … after all these years, after everything I’ve been through, all the times I’ve recalled and been tortured by that memory … that there was still something missing…” Sakai looked over at him, dumbfounded by both his words and his peaceful expression. She swallowed hard and fought for words.  
“No, I, I don’t understand. I was there, I saw what you saw, but … I heard your thoughts, “ Sakai said softly, “I heard you questioning how even with the element of surprise, the Minbari missed your ship. I heard you realize, as they hit the upper starboard wing of your Starfury, that you still had a choice … to bail out and escape in the life pod or … or do what you did … but what …”  
“I’ve always wondered in the years since I became Ranger One, since I learned about the Shadows – why weren’t they there? Why did they make so many elaborate attempts to stop me from taking Babylon 4 back in time when I was never more vulnerable than at that moment on The Line? You saw what it was like – utter chaos -- jump points opening everywhere; my Squadron gone in less than a minute; hundreds, thousands of other Earth Force ships being destroyed; they could literally have jumped into the middle of that mess, blown up my Starfury and jumped back out without drawing any attention to themselves at all! So why didn’t they?” Sakai shrugged mutely. “Didn’t you see it -- right before I blacked out – what it was that passed before my eyes? I know now, Cath, I know! It wasn’t just chance that I made it through that day! You haven’t shared thoughts with Kosh before; maybe that’s why you don’t understand it, but I know; it all makes sense to me now!” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it in excitement. “What I saw – as I was about to hit the Grey Council’s cruiser? It was a shadow – a Shadow! They were there! But someone else was there too – the flash of light – that was Kosh! He was flying back to hide inside the cruiser – his work was done. He’d been there all along, protecting me! The Vorlons couldn’t risk revealing that they knew the Shadows had stirred back to life after their thousand-year sleep, but they also couldn’t allow either the Shadows or the Minbari to kill me. So Kosh was there to guard me – my guardian angel, if you will,” he said with a sly smile. “And now – just now, a moment ago, Kosh learned this truth! Only by him asking to poke around in my memories could Kosh learn that he’s supposed to be there on that day in 2247! He just found out that there will be only one way to make certain the right Earth Force pilot gets brought aboard the Minbari cruiser; that there’s only one way to make sure Jeffrey Sinclair will make it back to become Valen! It still was, or will be, my choice to call Delenn’s attention to me, to head for the Cruiser, but Kosh has to make sure I live long enough to do it.

“And here’s the beauty of it all, Cath – Kosh not only knows what names The One will have in his Human and Minbari lifetimes, but also what I’ll look like. He knows when Sinclair’s Human life and Valen’s Minbari life will first connect. He knows I’ll be at The Battle of The Line and even what ship I’ll be in – he knows what to look for in that sea of twenty-thousand Earth vessels – old ‘02’ with the yellow jacket stripes! Do you see the weird and wonderful way that free will and predestination are combining here?” Sakai frowned.  
“Are you saying that you just altered … no, assured, the future, by showing Kosh he needed to be at The Battle of The Line?”  
“Essentially, yes.” He took a deep breath. “My God, Cath, just a few days ago I was certain my life was over, that I was going to have to immolate myself in order to preserve the future. Instead, I’m finding that the more and more I let go, the more I think I’m not dwelling on the past, the more I just live my life in the here and now with you, let my actions flow from out of my core rather than trying to anticipate and plan them, the more closely bound my two identities are becoming. Time and fate, the normal sequence of cause and effect are, I don’t know, melting away? I just am?” Sakai stared at him, her head spinning. Valen sighed faintly and slid back down against the bed and pulled the covers up over his chest. “Too much philosophizing,” he laughed, “I’m sure you aren’t as tired as I am, Catherine, but would you mind staying with me until I fall asleep?”   
“After all of this? I’m more than sleepy enough,” she said truthfully, “and there’s nothing I’d rather do, Valen.” 

Sakai took away the empty dish he had set down on the bed beside him and placed it on a nearby table. Unceremoniously, she threw off her shoes and her clothes, turned off the bedroom light and crawled into the bed, moving mindfully until she found the precise points where her body could meet Valen’s without aggravating any sore spots.   
“I’m starting to like saying that,” she noted as she curled up beside him. “It’s really quite a nice name. ‘Valen’,” she repeated, blowing it slowly across her lips.  
“After four years, I’m first starting to like hearing it,” he whispered back, drawing her arm across his chest and pressing her small hand against his heart. “I love you, Catherine Sakai. Thank you for being here. For being you.” She leaned over and gently kissed his cheek where it met his crown of bone.  
“You’re very welcome, Valen,” she said, putting her lips against his ear. “I love you too.” They lay quietly for several minutes, until Catherine felt as thought she would explode if she didn’t ask him a final question “Valen?” she whispered huskily.  
“Hmm?”   
“What did you mean when you told The Nine ‘be not afraid, for I am with you until the end of time’? Does it have to do with this ‘becoming’ you were just talking about?” 

For a while the only reply she received was the sound of his breathing and the rustle of the sheets as Valen pulled her even closer against him. In resignation, she concluded that he had already fallen asleep, but then at last he spoke.

“I probably shouldn’t tell you,” he said finally. “It’s one of those secrets Zathras was supposed to keep to himself. But he wasn’t very good at doing that, and as for me … well, from you, I can keep no secrets. Think back, Cath – whenever you heard a Minbari in the 2260s speak of Valen’s death, what did they say?”  
“I don’t know … no one actually said he, I mean you, died…” she thought for a spell as Valen turned to face her and sought out her eyes in the faint moonlight that passed through the crystal walls. “All I ever heard the Minbari say was that Valen ‘passed beyond.’ Isn’t that just their euphemism for death?” Valen moved his head almost imperceptibly from side to side, still staring at her meaningfully. “What are you saying?” she asked in growing wonderment, almost fearful to have this final mystery revealed.  
“Think about it, Cath,” he repeated, “’passed beyond’ what? By our time, the time we think of as our past, a thousand years from now, most of the ancient and powerful races will be long gone; all but the Vorlons and the Shadows, the ones you encountered at Sigma 957, maybe a couple of others. But in these days, there are others, other First Ones … what happened to them? And Ironheart – where do you think he went after he ‘became’?” Sakai’s eyes widened enormously as Valen’s strong hand tightened around her own. “The Centauri believed that their greatest Emperors, the ones who served their ancient gods most faithfully, became gods themselves. But of course their gods weren’t actually gods any more than Kosh is an Archangel. Yet something happened to them that led the Centauri to believe they were indeed gods. Think to Earth history – to biblical times. How many of the great prophets simply vanished at the end of their days, their graves never found? How many were said to have ascended to heaven in a chariot of fire or a wheel of light?” Valen ran the back of his other hand gently along Catherine’s jaw, and this time, it was he who breathed hushed words into her ear. “The greatest adventure of all lies far ahead of us, Cath. Valen ‘passed beyond’ the Rim – the Galactic Rim, Catherine. If things continue to go as they did before, there will be another life ahead for us both, because there’s no way I’m leaving this life without you.” Stunned, but realizing she had indeed heard the truth, Catherine barely felt Valen’s loving kiss against her lips. “I’ll be with you to the end of time,” he promised, sinking against the bed and closing his eyes once more.


	34. Epilogue

\-- EPILOGUE --

Delenn was about to leave The Machine for a final time when she saw another image form in front of her, one that Draal was leading her to. It was nearly impossible to resist watching any of history unfold before her eyes, and so she let him show her another scene.

It was late afternoon on a bright and temperate autumn day in the city of Tuzanor, and Draal and Delenn saw Valen sitting outside on the steps of one of the old stone Temples there, listening intently to something a young man in a Ranger uniform was telling him. 

“I am sorry to have brought you such news, Entil’Zha.”  
“Do not concern yourself with it further, Marneer, I expected the Shadows would be attempting a direct attack on Babylon 4 soon, and I am relieved to hear that while the damage to the station was considerable, we lost so few of our own. It was a move of desperation – they would not have done such a thing unless we were correct in our assumptions about how greatly we have weakened their forces. The next battle may, I pray, be their last for a millennium.” Despite himself, the Ranger sitting beside Valen smiled.  
“A few years ago, I would not have believed such a grand pronouncement, Entil’Zha, but then a few years ago I would never have been permitted, as a member of the Worker Caste, to fight alongside our warriors. Now I think there is not a word you could say that I would not know to be truth – that any of us would not believe at once – such is the faith you have inspired in your people, Satai Valen. Even if I am to perish myself in our next engagement, my soul will remain forever grateful to you, Entil’Zha, for the opportunity you’ve given me to rise above the ranks into which I was born.” Valen looked away for a moment, embarrassed and discomforted as always, by such praise. 

No sooner had Valen opened his mouth to reply than he was interrupted by the calls of a small child, perhaps three years of age, who came running from the garden alongside the Temple, and threw herself into his lap. While her face was clearly Minbari and a small half-circle of bone encompassed the sides and back of her head, a long braid of black hair bounced incongruously against her spine as she ran in the breeze. 

“Look! Look what I found, Daddy,” she shouted, thrusting a small hand up to his face. Valen looked down at her with an expression that was both loving and stern, lifted her off his lap and set her on the step just below him.  
“Excuse me, please, Marneer. Delenn,” Valen said, and watching, the woman the child had been named after gasped at this unanticipated revelation. “What have your mother and I told you about interrupting when adults are speaking? Marneer has traveled a great distance to bring me important news about our campaign against the Shadows. You have been most rude and must learn to wait your turn. But first, apologize to my honored guest at once.”  
“I’m sorry, Anla’shok,” his daughter said dutifully to Marneer, casting her eyes downward as she did so. The Ranger smiled, and Valen hid his own amusement behind one of his broad hands. “Wanna see what I found?”  
“Delenn…”  
“I’d love to,” interjected Marneer kindly, holding out his hand as the child jumped up. She dropped a small, iridescent green stone into his palm.  
“It’s an isil’zha stone, isn’t it? Just like yours!” She pointed to the pin beside the Ranger’s right shoulder.  
“I believe it is,” Marneer said in surprise, passing the trophy to Valen, who held it up to the light and turned it about.  
“An excellent find, Delenn,” he pronounced, and she beamed at him with pride. Valen patted her affectionately on the top of the head and began to rise. Following his example, Marneer stood up as well. “Thank you again for your service and loyalty, Marneer,” he said, turning back to the other adult while his young daughter bounced from one foot to the other. “You may inform the others that I will be leaving for the station within the week to inspect the damage. I will send word with a more precise date after the meeting of The Grey Council on the morrow. I hope that once I have thoroughly briefed The Council as to the status out on the front lines, I will be able to lead the final assault against the Shadows.”  
“I look forward to serving you in whatever capacity I can, Entil’Zha,” Marneer said, never quite raising his eyes above the other man’s torso.  
“May the gods bless you and keep you and bring us all peace,” Valen saluted him, bowing his head slightly. Marneer brought his hands together in a triangle, a gesture that had already evolved among the Minbari to symbolize the Triluminary, and to in turn form a visual representation of the sacred three-word-promise “In Valen’s Name.” The Ranger bowed slowly and deliberately before he turned and left. At the bottom of the stairs, Delenn mimicked his movements with the kind of grave sincerity only a child can muster. As soon as the Ranger departed the Temple grounds, however, she was tugging on Valen’s trousers and hopping up and down again. 

“Daddy, when I grow up can I be Anla’shok like you and Mama?” Valen picked her up into his arms as he sat back down and leaned against the pillar that held up the Temple’s porch.  
“You can be anything you want to be when you grow up, Delenn, as long as you’re good,” he said fondly as she squirmed into position in his lap.   
“Can we go home now and eat and go swimming and …” Valen laughed at her spiritedness.  
“No, Delenn, right now we’re going to sit here meditating quietly and wait until your mother returns from instructing flight class for our new Anla’shok. Do you think you can do that for me?” Earnestly, she shook her head, and complied for all of two minutes before interrupting Valen’s idle contemplation of the leaves blowing softly against the sky.  
“When is Mama bringing me babies to play with?” Valen brought a hand to his forehead and shook his head, laughing at his daughter’s exuberance.  
“What did we explain to you this morning at breakfast when you asked me this same question? How long did your mother say it would be?”  
“Three months? Three?” she repeated, holding up the proper number of chubby fingers. “Is it three months yet?”  
“No, Delenn. There will be snow on the ground in three months. Do you see any snow here? Ooof!” he exclaimed, as she suddenly leapt from his lap and ran off to search the bushes for snow. 

Valen shook his head again, this time to himself, as an expression of the perpetual amazement he felt watching the small and vibrant creature he had helped to create. He played idly with the small gem she had found; waved off the adolescent novitiate who emerged from the Temple to see if there was something the Chosen One might want; and then, alone at last, he stretched his legs out, reclined more casually against the stone support and reflected upon the passage of time. 

Fall on Minbar was not unlike fall on Earth, and it had been autumn when a certain young recruit caught his eye in the flight-training class he was teaching at the Earth Force Academy. It had been fall when he had left the Twenty-Third Century forever behind, and again when Kosh had reunited him with Catherine Sakai. Here it was, fall once more, twenty-two years or so after he and Catherine had first met and fallen in love, and now it was Sakai who was training eager young fighter pilots, as the First Shadow War drew to a close. She carried two more children within her, and Valen knew there was nothing he would ever do, as Entil’Zha, head of The Grey Council, or prophet to an entire planet, that could ever compare to those miracles Catherine would soon give birth to.

There was a particular way the light struck the planet’s surface, on both Earth and Minbar during that season; a precise angle that cast long, deep shadows and vividly illuminated the colors of the landscape, that always made Valen feel fragile and a bit melancholy. On Minbar, this emotional mixture was heightened by the spectacular way the crystal cliffs and buildings reflected and refracted the light, so that wherever one looked, one saw shimmering rainbows suspended in the sky. If only he had the time, Valen thought, he could spend hours, perhaps days, just watching this display and giving silent thanks to God for allowing him to live to see it. But some young artist of the Worker Caste or a Holy Woman of the Religious would have to do it for him, because Valen had been called to do other things – many other things. 

“Look, Delenn,” he announced, noting a distant but distinctive figure approaching the Temple from the road that led down from the plateau on which the Ranger compound had been built. “I believe that’s your mother coming our way.” The child burst from the garden and raced down the stone path to greet her other parent, and Valen stood up, brushed off his pants and straightened his tunic before stepping forward himself. Sakai was also dressed in the brown and black uniform of the Anla’shok, although her costume had been altered to accommodate her increasingly large belly. She laughed as their daughter threw herself forward, and nearly lost her balance trying to catch the small ball of energy in her arms.

“Delenn!” Valen instructed sharply, “Be careful of your mother!” He took the child from Sakai and sat her upon his shoulders, giving Sakai a small kiss in greeting. Delenn grabbed hold of the wings of bone on the sides of her father’s head for support.  
“I’m fine – you worry too much.”  
“You don’t worry enough,” he replied, but he said it with good-humored laughter, taking Sakai’s hand and turning with her to walk the short distance to the second of their homes in Tuzanor. Long after they had moved from that one, the Minbari would rededicate it as a Temple. “It seems that your skills as a geologist are hereditary – look what Delenn found today,” and he passed her the stone. Sakai examined it much as he had and cooed to her pleased daughter about the discovery. But then she spoke of less cheerful things.  
“Valen – I heard about the Shadow attack on the station – how bad…”  
“This is a gossipy little planet, isn’t it? I was only just informed myself about an hour ago.”  
“It was all the Ranger recruits were talking about. Don’t kick your father, Delenn, or you’ll have to walk home yourself. Well, that and the eloquent example of forgiveness you offered when you rescinded your ban against the Wind Swords and said you’d again consider members of that Clan for admission into the ranks of the Anla’shok.” She stopped walking for a moment and as Valen followed suit, faced him with a smile. “I’m still proud of you – as always – for that, you know. I don’t think I could have done it, but it was the right thing; it needed doing.” Valen dropped his eyes, drew aimless lines in the dirt with the toe of his boot, but there was a bashful smile on his face as they resumed their homeward journey. Sakai brushed his cheek fondly, and Valen caught her hand and held it against his lips for a few seconds before dropping his arm down and swinging hers along with his as they moved. “So how many casualties were there?” Valen gestured slightly with his eyes and brows to the child around his neck, and Sakai nodded in tacit understanding.   
“Know what?” inserted Delenn, abruptly and with tremendous excitement, “We’re gonna have babies!”  
“Yes we will,” Sakai laughed, dropping Valen’s hand and tapping the tip of Delenn’s nose teasingly, and then putting her arm around Valen’s waist as they walked.  
“And they come when there’s snow! What are their names, mama?”  
“Uh oh,” groaned Valen, “I sense a fight on the way, although we did name this one without disagreement.”  
“Yes, but you’re probably right – trouble ahead,” Sakai laughed, “after all, ‘Delenn’ was quite obvious once we saw who she looked like.”  
“That wasn’t the only reason we agreed on that name,” he reminded her.  
“Yes, well, you wouldn’t have approved if I’d told you I only suggested it so you’d stop calling out ‘Delenn’ in your sleep!” she lied jokingly.  
“Catherine…” Valen muttered threateningly, and the child he carried around his head forgot her original question and chimed in with a new one.  
“Why was Daddy calling to me?” Valen gave Catherine a devious look.  
“Good question – care to answer that one, Catherine?”  
“He wasn’t calling to you, baby, he was talking to an old friend of his we named you after. Someone very wise and powerful whom he respected a great deal.”  
“Oh,” Delenn said, reassured, and turning her attentions to poking at the blue design atop her father’s head.  
“Satisfied?” Catherine asked him.  
“You forgot ‘beautiful’, but I won’t hold that against you,” he replied mischievously as he tried to brush Delenn’s finger away from his scalp. “Please stop that, Delenn, it’s annoying.” In response, his daughter redoubled her efforts, and Catherine laughed. “Why do children have so many irritating habits?” Valen asked her, rolling his eyes and opening the door to their house.  
“They inherit them from their fathers.”   
“And now we have two more on the way we’ll have to figure out,” Valen complained with amusement, as he put their first child down on the floor. Delenn immediately ran off to her room, loudly announcing their return to the two household servants Valen employed. Sakai and Valen watched her receding figure with mutual affection.  
“Uh, not exactly,” Sakai said, easing herself down on the couch as Valen doffed his brown silk coat and turned to her in confusion. “The doctor did some re-imaging, and it seems the Minbari magic number has come into play again.”  
“Are you telling me … Good Lord,” he exclaimed as she nodded. “You’re hiding three of them in there? How is that possible? How did that happen?” Valen sat down beside her and eyed her belly with disbelief.   
“Well, let’s see,” she began, “I believe it started with something like this,” and she leaned over to kiss him. Valen had just begun to respond with enthusiasm when the product of their previous efforts reappeared and interrupted them. The two resigned themselves to completing the discussion that night, after their daughter was asleep.

That was where Delenn found them next, as Draal brought her time travels to a close. Sakai was looking out into their garden through a transparent mineral wall similar to the one in the house they had borrowed from The Nine three years before. Valen entered the bedroom with word that he had put their daughter to bed, came up behind Sakai and put his arms around her, his hands resting on her gravid midsection, and pressed his cheek against hers as they gazed out at the night sky.

“Looks like I’ve made my last space flight for a while,” Sakai said a bit sadly, “it’s getting so I can’t even strap myself into the simulator anymore – I’m just too damn big. So we’ll have to get someone else to finish training the new Rangers in aerial combat techniques … you, I’d imagine,” she finished, smiling, and directing her eyes to his face. It had been months since Valen had pulled himself away from The Council, the Temple and his babysitting duties and hit the open skies, and Sakai knew he’d probably been craving space flight for weeks. A change in body, venue and centuries had done nothing to ease his feelings of restlessness once he’d been on the ground for any length of time. She was puzzled to see no change in his expression. “What’s wrong, Valen? One more baby than we expected won’t make that much difference, not with all the help we’re always being offered…” Valen looked down and drew her away from the wall to sit beside him on their bed. “Not if we accept some of it for a change.”  
“No, no it’s not that at all, Cath.” For a brief moment, he grinned. “Triplets though … but no, that’s not what I’ve been pondering all evening. Here, let me give you a hand,” he said, assisting Catherine as she undressed for bed.  
“Well, it’s certainly been something – you were so quiet at dinner – it’s about the Shadow attack on the station, isn’t it? Was it much worse than unofficial word has had it?” Catherine threw a loose white robe over her head and lay back on the bed with a groan, rubbing her lower back idly.  
“No, well, we lost an entire section and one of the main solar panels, but only 10 of our people died, which is astonishing when you consider that the Shadows attacked directly, not through any of their minions. Roll over,” he directed, and gratefully, Catherine complied, turning onto her side so he could massage her aching back. “And we even forced them to withdraw! Of course another four of our dwindling supply of Starfuries are gone, but again, I’m pleased we’ve been able to keep as many in circulation as we have, and production of the new fighters the Minbari have designed to take their place is up to full capacity. Another twenty will be on-line by tomorrow, in fact. No, what’s troubling me is something else entirely. I’ve been trying to come up with the best way to do the impossible – which is to ask your permission to break a solemn promise.” 

Catherine looked back at him with concern, and true to form, Valen abandoned his ministrations and paced across the room. He stopped and surveyed the fountain in the garden outside their bedroom again, as if his next words were somehow concealed there in the burbling water. She sat up in bed, waiting, knowing that if she prompted him further, she would only end up delaying his reply. Finally, he made his way back to her, sat down on the floor beside the bed.

“Can you believe it’s been over three years now since I emerged from the StarFire Wheel; three years since I promised I’d never be separated from you? I like to think I’ve done a pretty good job of living up to that promise.”  
“You have,” Sakai began, but Valen held up a hand to stop her from speaking the defense of his conduct he sensed upon her lips.  
“But now I can’t come up with a way to fulfill two sets of conflicting duties – to you and Delenn and the trio on the way, and to Minbar. This is it, Catherine; I’ve fought in too many skirmishes and full-blown battles not to sense it in my bones. This is the time for my forces to make the final strike. This is the moment when we have to push back; it’s all or nothing now. It isn’t that Zathras informed me of the date, and I don’t need the Vorlons to give me any updates or encouragement; I simply know this is our best opportunity to drive the Shadows into hibernation and end the War.”  
From his pocket he took out the valuable isil’zha stone their daughter had found, and he turned it around and around in his hand, rubbing his thumb across its slick surface.   
“I’m Anla’shok Na, I’m Entil’Zha, and I’m the one who brought the Minbari into the fore of this War in the first place. Right now, the times have elevated those titles above even Satai or Chosen One – how easy life was when I had just one rank! Catherine, I can’t send someone else to lead this invasion for me. I’ve no doubt there are other, perhaps even better military strategists among my troops, maybe even better generals, but that’s not the point. I won’t ask people to die In My Name without putting my own life on the line alongside of theirs. I know I swore off all forms of self-murder long ago, but I still believe enough in the fluidity of time, in free will, that I don’t feel I can promise I won’t meet with an accident out there, that I won’t be blown to pieces or spaced. So I can’t promise you that I’ll live to come home to you. And I can’t even say how long this campaign will last – a few days, a few weeks, or perhaps even years more. But I have to go – you see that, don’t you?” He looked up at his wife on the bed above him.  
“Valen – come sit next to me so I can look at you, okay? Valen, we both understood the terms of the contract between us when I decided to stay in this time with you, and we reaffirmed them when you returned from the Wheel. Every Ranger knows when he or she pledges to ‘live for The One, die for The One,’ that The One will do no less for them in turn. Nine hundred years from now, I’m going to take that oath, fully knowing what it means. You would break faith with me only if you were to refuse to go now, when the militia needs its Commander-in-Chief.” She took the isil’zha from his hand. “We’ve both seen it – even if we don’t understand why or how -- after they’ve bathed these things in your blood, the Ranger’s blood, and whatever that liquid the Vorlons provided is, they do turn black when that Ranger dies. Leave me yours, Valen, and you’ll know that I’ll always know exactly how you are.” They shared a long and serious exchange of looks and punctuated it with an equally intense kiss. Finally, Catherine pulled away, and as Valen began to get undressed for the night, she spoke again, lightly.   
“Besides, I know you’ll be returning,” she said, smiling, “because we still haven’t argued about names for our kids! There’s no way the Universe would dare to deny us that conflict.” Valen smirked as he crawled under the covers beside her.  
“What’s the big deal there? We’ll just call them One, Two and Three,” he said, turning his head and kissing her.  
“The hell we will,” she joked back in mock anger, biting his lips.  
“All right then, how about ‘Abraham, Isaac and Jacob’?”  
“’Tom, Dick and Harry’?” Catherine offered in turn.  
“’Aramis, Athos and Porthos’? You know – the ‘Three Musketeers’?”  
“No, wait, I’ve got it!” Catherine exploded, sputtering with laughter, “Kirk, Spock and McCoy!”  
“Great! I think ‘Spock’ is an ancient Vorlon name,” he joked. “So now we’re all set -- unless we have three girls,” Valen concluded, pulling her back into his arms and hugging her warmly.  
“Well, let’s not discuss that – remember, my insurance policy is riding on this argument remaining unresolved.”  
“You’re sure you’re alright with my going?” he asked, suddenly serious again.  
“As long as you promise not to do something brave and stupid.”  
“Like what?” Valen asked, offended by the suggestion and sitting up indignantly.   
“Oh, I don’t know; investigating some potentially dangerous situation without calling for back-up, intentionally infuriating an alien with greater powers than you have at your own disposal, piloting your transport into a spatial anomaly without a time stabilizer…”  
“Okay, okay, I get the point.” Sakai, however, wasn’t done with her list.   
“How about making a decision based upon the erroneous assumption that your allies are behind you, which you don’t know because you didn’t ask them? Or bending the rules and pissing off all of your superiors?”  
“Ha! No worry there -- I don’t have any superiors … present company excluded of course.”  
“Of course. I have one more, though – promise me you won’t try to ram an enemy vessel head-on with your ship.”  
“Hey – don’t knock that one! We wouldn’t even be here right now if I hadn’t given that one my best effort!” Catherine tried to laugh, but he saw in her eyes that she was actually somewhat troubled. “I promise,” he swore in a whisper, “any way, there’s still a continent on our private planet we haven’t populated yet.” He moved in to nibble on her ear.  
“We can’t very well take care of that for another five or six months at least,” Catherine admonished.  
“But we can still practice, can’t we?” Valen begged hopefully, but he could tell she wasn’t in the mood, so he didn’t press the point. Besides – if he did survive the conflict with the Shadows, there would be a lifetime full of opportunities for them to play together. Catherine joined him in laughter and they lay back down in the bed, Catherine cuddling against his strong body as best she could, given the three small fetuses kicking at her insides.  
“Win your War and then we’ll negotiate,” she instructed. Valen smiled ruefully and then put his arm around her and stroked her face softly.  
“I love you, Catherine. Thank you yet again – for everything.”  
“You’re still welcome, Valen. I love you too.” She kissed him on the temple where his skin met with the crest of bone and closed her eyes. Valen sighed happily, then watched her for awhile by the light of Minbar’s twin moons, until he too fell asleep.

“Good night, Old Friend, sleep well,” Delenn whispered, drinking in the sight of the two lovers lying peacefully in bed, having at last seen all of the past she needed to see. “Dream well. Dream for us all.”

(All rights, characters, names, photographs, indicia pertaining to “Babylon 5” are copyrighted by J. Michael Straczynski and Warner Brothers/PTN Consortium/Time Warner Co. The translation of “The Song of Songs” in the chapter entitled “Out in Plain View” is from Marcia Falk’s “Song of Songs: Love Lyrics From the Bible: A New Translation and Interpretation,” Copyright 1973, 1979, 1982 & 1990.)


End file.
